Beginnings
by Misbehavin
Summary: How Rod and Mackenzie met and the beginnings of their relationship. The origins for this story are found in the Thanksgiving episode, The Mom Who Came to Dinner, State of the Unions and The Price You Pay.
1. The Encounter

**Author's Note:** This piece is written under the assumption that Mac became President sometime in the Spring of 2015, making her eligible to serve another two terms; and that she and Rod both turned 46 years-old that same year. As the title suggests, this is an account of how they met and the beginnings of their relationship. It's origins lie mostly in the Thanksgiving episode _The Mom Who Came to Dinner_. But also in _The Price You Pay_ and _State of the Unions_. When I began writing this story little was known about the Allen family and virtually nothing had been revealed about the Calloway family. As I've been writing, above all I've tried to keep one thing in mind. And that is, what Mackenzie & Rod go on to accomplish together, and who they ultimately become: the President and First Gentleman of the United States. These are not average characters. They are extraordinary.

**BEGINNINGS**

**1. The Encounter**

Walking across the Yale campus to the law school, Mackenzie Spencer Allen felt on top of the world. She was twenty-five with a job waiting for her at a top New York law firm; and it was the first day of her _last_ year of school. She took a moment to take in her surroundings. It was a beautiful September morning that felt more like summer than fall. Suddenly a feeling of melancholy, whose source she couldn't quite pinpoint, washed over her. Usually she did not engage in much self-assessment. It was a waste of time and a distraction. But this morning, she allowed herself a little indulgence. Maybe the melancholy stemmed from the thought of again leaving Connecticut–the only place she really considered home. After spending her first six years here at the Essex Naval Base, her father's military career had resulted in several moves over the next several years until she returned to Hartford with her mother for high school.

It seemed that growing up she was constantly learning to fit in. It didn't help that she was usually smarter and _always_ taller than the other kids. While she generally made friends easily, she also couldn't help but feel like an outsider a lot of the time. For her, relationships had been short-term and transient in nature–except for a couple of close friends and her relationship with her mother, Kate, and to a more limited extent her father, Michael. Her mother was the one constant in her world. Regardless of how much she wanted to please her father, it was her mother who gave her independence, confidence, and most of all, security. She was grateful that her parents–regardless of the lengthy separations imposed upon them by her father's career–were devoted to each other and to her. They believed she could accomplish anything.

XXXXXXXXXX

Roderic Gabriel Calloway was likewise walking across the campus. He, too, was twenty-five. But even ninety-minutes of early morning basketball could not quell his anxiety. It was his _first_ day at the Yale Law School and he was nervous. He'd just finished a stint in the Army and it had been more than three years since he last attended school. He looked around and breathed in the morning air. School had always come easy and usually with very little effort. Would he, however, be up to this new challenge? He'd better be if he wanted to look his father and grandmother in the eye. More important, his future depended on his success.

Rod's parents were still somewhat upset about his decision to join the Army. And his father remained surprised and unhappy about his decision to go to law school. He understood the family's surprise. Law school had not been in his plans until fairly recently.

He was the oldest son and his father wanted him in the family banking business–a place he had absolutely no interest in being. Trading and investing were fun hobbies but the actual business of making money held no appeal for him. But then, he'd never been poor. Maybe if he'd seen his family struggle he might feel differently. He enjoyed his comfortable existence–was grateful for it–and he recognized that it took a lot of pressure off him. But he wanted his profession–his life's work–to be more than simply adding to the family fortune. Above all, he wanted to find his own place in the world, which is why, after an injury in his junior year ended his pitching career, he joined the Army immediately upon graduation. There was another reason he chose to serve in the military. However, he wasn't ready yet to share that information with anyone. In fact, he scarcely acknowledged it to himself.

Growing up, baseball was his passion. Physically, he'd been born to pitch. He was 6'5" tall and left-handed. And he could throw a fastball 94 miles per hour. Usually Yale could not attract such athletes to its baseball team. However, he was a Calloway. For him, attendance at Yale was mandatory–a family tradition that even he wouldn't have dared break. So he'd spent his undergraduate years in New Haven. He'd enjoyed that time. Years spent playing ball, attending frat parties, studying when necessary, and in general being a popular guy. He sighed. He wasn't the same man today. He'd learned a lot in the Army. And despite his anxiety over this new endeavor, he felt like he'd come home.

XXXXXXXXXX

As Rod and Mackenzie reached the law school, neither of them was aware of the other's existence. They each looked at their watch and realized they were late for class. Mac silently berated herself for dallying while Rod seemingly took it more in stride. Both of them, however, began to quicken their pace. Nonetheless, their minds were not entirely on the task at hand. Mac entered the school from the south and Rod from the east. Between the two entrances their paths literally crossed.

Mac hurriedly came around a corner and ran into a mountain–a mountain she'd never seen before. As a result she landed unceremoniously on her butt–books and all.

For Rod, their collision was less painful but no less dramatic as this feisty, beautiful redhead ended up sprawled at his feet muttering something about mountains and jocks who hadn't a clue. He quickly extended a helping hand.

Mac, who was experiencing a host of varying emotions over this encounter, wished the mountain would just go away. However, she reluctantly accepted his help in regaining her feet. But as her dignity was still amiss and her temper alight, she couldn't help but complain to him, "Why don't you watch where you're going..."

She was stunned when the mountain asked in response, "Why, am I trespassing?"

"Yes, if you're expecting to find football practice in this building."

He feigned hurt. "Don't you like football?"

"Not if I'm the tackling dummy," she said haughtily. She studied her tormentor further and for almost the first time, she actually felt small standing next to a man. In spite of her current situation, she liked this feeling.

The mountain laughed and again held out his hand. "I'm Rod," he said with a cocky grin.

Out of habit and somewhat in shock over the dramatic nature of their introduction, she accepted his hand and said, "I'm Mac."

"Well, Mac," Rod exclaimed, "why don't you let me apologize over dinner. I'll meet you here at say 7:00 p.m."

She looked at him incredulously. However, before she could actually voice a response to his suggestion, he walked away leaving her with the thought, "Hey, even law students have to eat…. And I prefer baseball to football."


	2. The Socratic Method

**2. The Socratic Method**

Mac stared at Rod's departing back for a few minutes wondering what had just happened. Was this guy for real? And why was she so bothered by him? She didn't like this feeling. She liked control. Pulling herself together, she hurried down the hall in the opposite direction of Rod knowing she was late for her Wills & Trusts class.

It was just her luck that the class was taught by Professor Oaks, the Dean of the law school. Oaks had a reputation for being a hard ass about tardiness. Maybe if his attention was elsewhere she could quietly slip in and grab a seat in the back. But at a hair over 6 feet tall, it was hard for her to go unnoticed anywhere. And today proved no different.

She was exactly three-feet inside the class room when the Dean's booming voice greeted her sarcastically, "Nice of you, Ms. Allen, to take the time out of your busy schedule to join us."

She humbly apologized as she located the closest seat she could find and moved to sit down.

"Not so fast, Ms. Allen. Since you _are_ here and already _standing_, perhaps you would be good enough to brief us on the next case, _In re Estate of Brown_."

She was slightly rattled by this demand but she knew the drill. She quickly opened her book and began to recite the facts of the case. A majority of her classmates typed their briefs so that they had the relevant case information at their fingertips in case they were called upon. She, on the other hand, preferred to make notes in the book margin and to recite the information from those notes instead.

She didn't get very far into her factual recitation, when Dean Oaks' deep voice again interrupted, "I'm sorry, Ms. Allen, but that information is wrong."

"Sir, I'm just telling you what it says," she protested.

"Well, that's wrong."

"Sir," she insisted, "I am reading it to you from the book." Mac could tell from the looks on the faces of her classmates that they were as puzzled as she was. In fact, the entire room of approximately 100 students had gone absolutely silent.

"I don't care," the Dean equally insisted, "it's wrong."

Without thinking she sarcastically stated, "Well, I didn't write the damn book!"

After a pregnant pause, gasps and laughter filled the room and with a shock she realized why: She may not have written the book, but Dean Oaks had. She was in deep trouble now.

She felt the heat rise in her face. She looked down to see that the Dean was laughing, too. However, he wasn't finished with his torture of her. For the remainder of class, while she remained standing, he peppered her with hypothetical questions about the subject of the day–hypotheticals that grew increasingly obscure and difficult.

She began sweat profusely with the knowledge that her answers were growing increasingly tenuous until finally, she was literally saved by the bell. Exhausted, she sat down. She hadn't felt this humiliated since her first week here. How was she ever going to live this down? This story would be told for years to come. Damn that Mountain! This was his fault.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rod, too, was late. Unlike Mac though, he had no idea what to expect from his Civil Procedure class or the professor. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure exactly what Civil Procedure was or why it was so important. And at this moment he couldn't even remember his professor's name. He was in luck because unbeknownst to him, Professor Goldsmith was ironically–given the subject matters he taught–the most laid back member of the faculty when it came to attendance. He slipped into the room quietly and was fortunate to secure a seat near the door without initially being noticed.

Ultimately, however, his luck ran out and he, too, had been called on. But, unlike Mac, he had no idea what to expect. All he could say for the experience was at least he didn't cry. One classmate had actually left the room in tears–and that classmate was a guy! What he was doing here? He had spent three hours reading two cases last night and he wasn't entirely certain what he had read. Never in his life had he felt so stupid. The Army–especially basic training–may have been humiliating but at least they only questioned his manhood... and not his entire existence.

XXXXXXXXXX

After class, Mac headed to the law journal offices. One of the perks of being on the editorial board of the journal was a desk in a semi-private, semi-quiet room. When she got there, her classmate and friend, Mike Stanton was already there. He was the articles editor for the journal so they worked closely together.

"What happened to you this morning?" Mike asked. "You're never late for class."

"Don't ask," Mac replied.

"I'm serious. You looked baffled or rattled–or something–when you came in."

She sighed. She knew Mike well enough to realize that he wouldn't just let this go. "I was coming around the corner on my way to class when I collided with a mountain. And I gracefully ended up on my butt. I suppose that's what I get for running in the halls."

"Who was it?" he inquired knowing that for Mac to literally end up on the ground this guy must be something else.

"I've never seen him before. I can only assume he's a first year–or a jock who was really, really lost. His name is Rod." _And he's really good-looking in an arrogant mountain sort of way_, she thought.

There was something in her tone and in her expression that gave him pause. He made a mental note to find out about this Rod.

"Anyway," she went on, "that's why I was late. As you witnessed, the Dean didn't take too kindly to my entrance. Completely humiliated me. I don't know how I'll be able to show my face in there again."

"I wouldn't worry about it," he reassured her. "You did great. Besides everyone–including the Dean–knows you're the smartest student in the school."

"And you're the most competitive."

He shrugged.

"We'd better get to work. We need to have the second-years' technical edit assignments to them by the end of the week." Mac sighed again. She was glad that she only had the one class today. Getting this year's journal staff up and running was going to take so much work. How was she going to get it all done? In addition, she needed to find the time to do tomorrow's assigned reading. And there was still the question of the dinner invitation... Well, she'd deal with that later.

XXXXXXXXXX

While Mac was busy working, Rod was watching other 1L's face the same humiliation in their Contracts class that he had experienced earlier in Civil Procedure. He quickly learned that the Socratic Method had one thing going for it: It helped you make friends. Mutual humiliation seemed to be a great icebreaker. By lunchtime, he had met a handful of classmates, both male and female. Some of them–along with a few others Rod had known from his undergraduate days, took themselves off to a nearby pub. Though it was early, they decided that, in addition to a big lunch, they had earned a beer.

The conversation was plentiful; and a couple of the girls were very cute. But Rod found that his mind kept wandering back to his encounter–his collision–with Mac. What _should_ he do about dinner? Had he really asked her out like that? He typically wasn't so bold. Boldness hadn't usually been required. She was quite different from the women he'd dated in the past. But something about her intrigued him. She was undoubtedly beautiful. But it was more than that, he realized. She challenged him. And he'd grown to like a good challenge.

But that still did not solve his problem about what to do about dinner. Should he take her out someplace? Someplace quiet, someplace loud? Or should they stay around campus? They didn't exactly know each other and she might be nervous and prefer more familiar territory. Then again, she didn't strike him as the nervous type. If anyone should fear for their safety, it should probably be him. She hadn't exactly been happy about the end-result of their collision.

Would she show up? He hoped so. He had deliberately chosen to phrase the invitation as a dare because she didn't seem like the type of woman who ever shied away from a direct challenge. He hoped his instincts were right. But if they were correct, he could be in for the ride of his life.


	3. Decisions

**3. Decisions**

When Rod arrived back at the law school after lunch, he ran into Cooper Young for the second time that day. They were childhood friends, who'd played ball together as preps and against each other in college. He'd seen Cooper that morning at the gym and had ended up playing basketball with him and other law students.

"How'd class go this morning?" Cooper asked with a smirk remembering _his_ first morning like it was yesterday.

"Totally humiliating," Rod replied. "Please tell me I won't have to endure this for the entire three years?"

"You will. But you get used to it. Let me know if I can help."

"Thanks, Coop. Are we playing hoops in the morning?"

"Yeah."

"Great. I'd better get to class." Rod slapped his friend on the back and then headed off for more torture. Maybe he could use class time to begin to finalize the arrangements for dinner. He had been tempted to ask if Cooper knew Mac, but had decided to wait. He didn't want to look foolish if she failed to show tonight. She would come, wouldn't she?

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac had, in fact, observed their conversation from a comfortable distance. She had met Cooper and Mike on their first day of law school. He and Mike knew each other from Princeton and had been on the university baseball team together. Somehow all three of them had been called on–and humiliated–during their very first class. The experience created a bond between them and they, along with her best friend, Carl Brantley, had been friends and study partners since that day. The three boys were equally smart but had very different personas. Carl was calm and quiet. Cooper was a clown but also incredibly perceptive. And Mike was loyal, competitive and intense. While she and Mike worked on law journal together, Cooper and Carl headed-up the moot court team. As she watched Cooper and Rod converse, she mentally changed her plans for the next hour or so.

After Rod left she, too, approached Cooper. "Hey Coop, have you had lunch?"

"No. Are you buying? After all, you're the one who made the big bucks this summer."

Mac laughed knowing that he, too, had worked for a big litigation firm during the summer–only in Los Angeles. Cooper had an adventurous, easy going personality–so different, she thought, from the formality of his given name: H. Cooper Young, III. He had decided to get away from the east coast establishment in order to give surfing a try (or so he said). Personally, she thought his decision had more to do with tanned babes in bikinis.

"Sure," she said. "But if I'm buying, then I get to pick the place."

"Forget it," he groaned. "I'll buy. A growing boy needs real food."

Mac feigned annoyance and the two of them headed to a nearby burger joint. She wanted to find out more about Rod. It was only natural she should be curious. However, she did not want to stir up Cooper's curiosity. He was like a brother to her–and like a brother, he knew exactly how to get under her skin. So she'd have to tread lightly to avoid suspicion.

Once they sat down, he ordered his usual double cheeseburger while she ordered a salad. While they waited for their food, they talked about the morning and how surreal it felt to be 3L's. When she told him about her experience in the Dean's class, he laughed hysterically. She, however, found no humor in the situation. Above all, she hated to be made to look like a fool. Silently, she chided Cooper for never taking anything seriously. At the same time, she envied his ability to just let things roll off him. She recognized that it was this quality that made him such a formidable courtroom advocate.

Finally, half way through the meal, she worked up her courage to broach the subject of Rod. "Hey, who was that guy you were talking to right before I ran into you?"

"You mean Rod?" he asked.

"I don't know. A big guy with dark hair, green eyes." Mac responded.

"You mean a very good-looking big guy with dark hair and green eyes?" he asked with a wink.

"Yeah, I guess."

"That's Rod Calloway. He's a 1L. Why do you ask?"

"No particular reason." She tried to sound casually disinterested. "I hadn't seen him around before. Known him long?"

"We grew up together. He's about your age. He's a good guy and an incredible athlete. I was surprised to run into him this morning at the gym. I hadn't seen him in a few years. I was more shocked to find out he was starting law school. He's always been an intelligent but never all that serious about school. I, like everyone else, assumed he'd end up in the family business."

"Okay." She thought it best not to push for any more information so she changed the subject.

As they were talking, Mike walked in and sat down next to her. Immediately he grabbed some of Cooper's fries and a slice of chicken from her salad.

"Where were you this morning, Mike?" Cooper asked. "You missed a great game. There are a couple of new guys who can really play."

"I just couldn't drag my sorry butt out of bed. Besides I knew Mac would work me to death so I decided I'd better rest up."

Mac elbowed him playfully in the ribs as she responded with equal sarcasm, "Yeah well, you'd better get back to that work because I don't remember giving you permission to take a lunch."

Mike waved the server over and ordered his own burger.

"Have I ever told you guys my theory about law review?" Cooper asked mischievously. There had always existed a friendly rivalry between the law journal board and the moot court team. And he loved to needle Mike and Mac, who–from his perspective–were both too intense and took life far too seriously.

"No," Mike replied. "And I'm sure we're powerless to stop you now."

Cooper smiled. "Well, when the training of lawyers was made part of academia, all of the new law professors knew that they would need to publish in order to gain tenure. However, at that time there were virtually no legal publications so they decided to create them. Only they didn't want to get stuck doing the grunt work of managing the damn things so they decided to get students to do it for them. But they realized that not even students would be dumb enough to agree to do that work. Eventually they solved the problem by making it an honor to be on law review–an honor generally reserved for, and revered by, the top ten percent. And that's how you two sorry overachiever's came to be so miserable."

Mac laughed. She could always count on Cooper to keep things in their proper perspective.

Mike, on the other hand, couldn't help but throw back at Cooper, "Not all of us can struggle just enough to only finish in the top twenty percent."

Coop grinned again. _Getting Mike riled up is just too easy_, he thought.

The three friends visited for a few more minutes before Mac excused herself and she headed back to the school.

XXXXXXXXXX

All afternoon, Mac had an unusually difficult time concentrating on her work. Her thoughts kept returning to Rod, to his dinner invitation, and to what she had learned from Cooper. What was it about him that had her so off-balance? Was it chemistry? That must be it. Because he didn't seem like her type and she certainly didn't appear to be his type. Jocks typically went for the petite cheerleader types. She was many things, but a petite cheerleader, she was not. Still, he had asked her to dinner. But did he mean it? Or was he simply being polite because she had ended up on her butt. Should she meet him? Did she want to meet him? He was hot. He had a great smile and distinctive eyes. What if he stood her up? Eventually she worked through her list of journal work for the day; and it only took her twice the time it should have, she wryly recognized.

Mike returned late in the afternoon and the two of them hurried through the 2L assignments. When they finished, he asked, "Are you ready for dinner, Mac?"

She looked at the clock: 6:55 p.m.

"Not tonight," she replied. She hastily grabbed her bag and headed for the door. "I've got an appointment."

"An appointment?" Mike wondered aloud. "What appointment?" But she was already gone.

Mac virtually ran to the bathroom. Like most women she both loved and hated the face that greeted her in the mirror. She touched up her makeup and put on some lipstick. She looked at herself again. Was she actually going to do this? "Calm down," she said to herself in the mirror. She took a deep breath before leaving. As she walked down the stairs she gave herself a pep talk: _It's no big deal. No earth-shattering or life-altering event. It's only dinner_.


	4. Room 112

**4. Room 112**

As Mac arrived at the place of their collision, she didn't see Rod. She looked at her watch. 7:03 p.m. He did say 7:00 p.m., didn't he? She paused for a moment. Should she wait a few minutes? Should she come back? Should she just forget the whole thing as he obviously had? What _had_ she been thinking in coming here?

Suddenly a studious-looking young man approached seemingly out of nowhere. "Are you Mac?"

"Yes."

"I'm supposed to give this to you." He handed her a single yellow rose and a card before he walked away.

She opened the card and read: _Mac, You've come this far, so perhaps you'd be willing to travel a little farther. Meet me in Room 112. _ Where was Room 112? And was this the beginning of some type of wild goose chase? The postscript caught her attention: _P.S. I know you're more familiar with this building than I am, but Room 112 is in the southeast corner of the first floor. And don't worry it's the final stop_. Instantly she felt nervous.

Meanwhile Rod paced the floor of Room 112 waiting to hear from his young accomplice. Finally, his phone rang. "Yes!" he exclaimed, as he hung up the phone and turned it off. Both relieved and anxious, he sat down and forced himself to breathe deeply.

As Mac entered the room, he rose to greet her. She looked incredibly beautiful. "Hey," he said huskily.

"Hi," she answered. She took in her surroundings. This was a small study room with a table and a few chairs. However, his sheer size made the room seem even smaller. He had placed a cloth over the table along with a vase containing approximately two-dozen yellow roses with about a half dozen red roses mixed in. There was also bottled water, cans of cola, salad, a big pizza box and paper plates and utensils.

"Come sit down," Rod told her. As he pulled out her chair, he admitted, "I wasn't sure you'd come."

"I almost didn't," she said with equal frankness.

"Were you worried about upsetting your boyfriend?" he inquired with a tilt of his head as he, too, sat down.

"No. There is no boyfriend at the moment," she responded.

"Thank God," he said with a smile.

Mac felt the heat in her cheeks. He does have a great smile, she thought. "What about you?" she asked.

"I don't have a boyfriend either."

"Don't be a smart ass!"

He looked at her for a minute and then said deliberately, "Do you honestly think I would have asked you for a date if I was involved with someone else?"

"Is that was this is?" she asked in return. "A date? I thought it was an apology."

"Can't it be both?"

Now it was her turn to smile.

"Mac, I _am_ sorry about what happened this morning."

"Don't worry about it. It was just simple physics at work: one object giving way to another–bigger–object. Besides it was only my pride, and not my backside, that really ended up bruised."

"Now you tell me," he said with a tone of mock exasperation. "I've spent the entire day worrying that here it is my first day in law school and I'm about to be sued by a really beautiful woman."

"Thank you," she responded sedately.

Rod was surprised that she seemed ill at ease with personal compliments. It didn't fit with the fire he'd earlier seen on display. But somehow it added to her allure. Taking pity on her, he asked, "What would you like to drink?"

"Water would be great."

He opened each of them a bottle of water and they filled their plates with salad and pizza. For a few minutes they ate in silence—in that shy, awkward way that is so common to a first date.

After a few minutes, he said, "I assume that Mac is a nickname?"

"Yes," she replied, "Short for Mackenzie. But everyone calls me Mac."

"I think I prefer Mackenzie." Mac may suit the law student and future attorney in her, but Mackenzie was a better fit for the woman he was finding her to be.

"What about you? Is Rod your given name or is it Rodney?"

"Roderic," he replied flatly.

"I definitely prefer Rod," she said with humor in her eyes.

"Me, too."

As they continued to eat, she thought about the day he'd probably experienced. She wondered when he had found the time to put this dinner together. He obviously had put some time and effort into it–which was not at all what she had expected either from him or the situation. All she had wanted to do after her first day was to escape into restful oblivion. She was so happy to have that first year (and the second one) behind her.

"How was your first day of law school?" she asked him.

He looked traumatized. "I'm not sure there's an appropriate word to describe it. I feel like I've entered some strange foreign country only I have no knowledge of the language and no means of translation or interpretation."

Mac nodded sympathetically.

He sighed and then continued, "I spent three hours last night reading two cases for Civil Procedure and I haven't a clue as to what I read. What's worse, class only made me more confused. And I have never in my life felt so stupid as I did upon getting called on in that class. The only positive thing I can say about the experience was at least I didn't burst into tears like one of my male classmates."

Mac chuckled. Poor Rod! She remembered that first class like it was yesterday. "They want you to feel that way," she told him.

"Jurisdiction," she went on. "Your first cases and lectures in Civil Procedure are about jurisdiction. This is the starting point because it determines whether a court has the power over the subject matter of the litigation and also over all of the relevant parties to the litigation. Subject matter jurisdiction is given to a particular court either by legislative act or by direction of a superior court. On the other hand, for a court to exercise personal jurisdiction over a party, that party must have at least minimum contacts with the forum in which the court sits or has authority."

Rod stared at her trying to assimilate what she was telling him. He wondered if he shouldn't ask her to repeat it so he could write it all down. Finally, he said with exasperation, "Why don't they just tell us that! Why make it all so complicated?"

At that thought, Mac laughed. "Because that would be too easy. Law school, my dear boy, is not primarily about learning specific facts and rules. It's mostly about learning to think, analyze, and apply facts to rules. You'll find that it's really all about the exceptions to the rules! And there are limitless exceptions!" Seeing the horror etched on his brow, she added hopefully, "Don't worry it _will_ get easier. It just takes time–and diligent study."

"I hope so," he replied with relief. Rod grabbed one of her hands, and looking at her intently said, "I'm glad I ran into you this morning–for many reasons."

Mac met his glance and answered, "Me, too."

Suddenly she was both afraid of _his_ words, and of _her_ attraction to him. Seeking firmer ground, she said, "I must admit, however, that I spent most of the morning mentally cursing your name."

"Because of the collision?" he inquired.

"No. Because of what happened after the collision."

Mac saw his look of puzzlement and continued, "I was late to the Dean's class and my entrance did not go unnoticed. He stopped his lecture and sarcastically thanked me for coming to class. Then he asked me to brief the next case. As I was reciting the facts, he kept interrupting me and telling me I was wrong. Rod, how could I be wrong when I was reading him the facts straight out of the book? Finally, out of desperation–and without thinking clearly–I threw back, 'Well, I didn't write the book.' The only problem was that _he_ was the author. After that, he spent the remainder of class trying to trip me up."

Rod noticed Mackenzie's expression but couldn't stop himself from laughing heartily at the thought of her taking on the Dean in the same feisty manner she had taken him on after their collision.

Mac glared at him. Finally, she said with bluntness, "Why does everyone seem to find this experience so funny? It was embarrassing, Rod. I looked like a complete idiot."

Rod studied her for a moment. Her distress in the situation was apparent. Finally he said, "It's funny, Mackenzie, because you had the courage to intellectually go toe to toe with the Dean. Haven't you realized yet that it wasn't you who was made out to be the fool?"

She looked at him suspiciously.

"Mac, it's the Dean who should feel humiliated. He, unlike you, didn't know the correct facts of the case–and he authored the book."

He was right. She wasn't the one who hadn't been prepared. It was the Dean! Suddenly she saw the encounter in a new light and began to laugh. Rod was happy his words seemed to have the desired effect; and he, too, began to laugh again. But even while laughing he had to fight the urge to kiss her.

Once their laughter subsided, Rod pulled out a cheesecake and began to cut a couple of slices. "I figured that salad, pizza and cheesecake were pretty safe menu choices. I hope my decision was right."

"It was. But I really should skip the cheesecake after what I've already eaten."

"Come on Mackenzie." He placed a thick slice on a plate and offered it to her. "Take pity on me. Because I won't eat any unless you do." He looked at her and then at the cheesecake. Mackenzie found his pitiful expression irresistible and gave in to the temptation.

As they ate desert, she was again struck by the time and effort he had put into their evening. This thought roused her curiosity about how the night had begun. "Rod, about tonight? Why have dinner here?"

"Because I wanted a place where we could talk. But we don't know each other and I thought you'd feel more comfortable in familiar surroundings."

"Thank you."

"My pleasure."

"One more question: Who was that earnest young man who met me upstairs?"

"Just an innocent freshman I found in the library who was willing to take a bribe to be my accomplice."

"Why the subterfuge?" she asked wryly.

"Because, Mackenzie, you're not the only one who hates to be made a fool." He paused momentarily before adding provocatively, "The truth is that I wanted some cover in case _you_ chickened out."

"I never back down from a challenge," she said.

Rod smiled at the hard look of open defiance she gave him and with a wink responded, "That, kiddo, is what I was counting on."

As their eyes met, the tension between them increased. Mac suddenly realized that her usual tactics for maintaining the upper hand, were simply not going to work with Rod. The challenge implicit in this knowledge both excited and terrified her.

The terror won out momentarily and she broke eye contact. Mac's eyes fell upon the vase of roses sitting off to one side. "The roses are lovely. A very unique combination and ratio of colors."

"Thank you," Rod said. "I'm glad you like them as they're for you." He paused and again looked at her directly. Then he continued, "They're my official apology for this morning. However, I also hoped, Mackenzie, they would prove symbolic of where we stand with each other at the end of tonight: friends with the potential for something much, much greater."

Mac nodded. She didn't trust herself to speak further. His honesty–like his thoughtfulness–surprised her. Beyond that... well, she just didn't know. She liked him and she was really attracted to him. Could he really like her, too? They still did not know each other. But somehow she felt certain that tonight wasn't _just_ dinner. And she wasn't entirely sure that she was comfortable with that prospect.

Rod watched with interest the gambit of emotions that played out on Mackenzie's face. He realized his initial instincts had been correct. But he wouldn't push her any further tonight. So he changed the subject and the two of them engaged in the small talk that was more typical of a first date.

Eventually, Mac looked at her watch and was shocked to find that it was almost midnight. "Thank you for dinner, Rod. I really enjoyed tonight, but I've got to go. I still haven't even begun to read for tomorrow's classes." Rod looked at his own watch and nodded in understanding. He, too, still had a ton of reading to finish.

Mac stood and prepared to leave. He stood, too, and picking up the vase said, "Mackenzie, your flowers."

She smiled gratefully.

Handing her the flowers, he kissed her gently on the cheek. He pulled back to see a hint of blush in her beautiful face.

Slightly embarrassed by her response, Mac quickly retreated towards the door.

He watched her momentarily before he realized that he still didn't even know her last name. "Will I see you again?" he asked with a hint of desperation.

Regaining her composure, she turned and replied coyly, "Perhaps, Mr. Calloway. As you pointed out earlier, even law students have to eat." She winked at him and took her leave.

He laughed, knowing that tonight _she'd_ had the last word.


	5. Rivalry Renewed

**5. Rivalry Renewed**

When Mike arrived at the campus gym early the following morning, the game was already going. He sat down and stretched while waiting for someone to need a breather. As he did so, he watched the game and immediately noticed Rod. _What is Calloway doing here?_ he almost said aloud.

He hadn't seen Calloway in over four years and he couldn't imagine what he was doing back on the Yale campus. Just then, Rod took a feed from Cooper, pivoted and jammed the ball through the net. _He hasn't changed a bit_, he thought. _Still needs to be the center of attention. What a jerk!_ Suddenly, he was anxious to get on the court (preferably on the opposing team.)

He got his wish as the first person to need a break was playing on the other team. Once on the court, he immediately volunteered to "take the new kid!" He wasted no time in going after Rod. Unfortunately, however, Calloway was no longer the tall, but skinny pitcher he remembered from years before. Instead, it seemed that thirty pounds of muscle had been added to his frame. Nonetheless, it didn't stop him from taking the ball at Rod whenever possible or from committing the hard fouls when appropriate.

Rod, meanwhile, wondered what was going on. He thought the guy guarding him looked familiar, but he couldn't place him. If they knew each other, it was from years before. But Mike–at least that's what Rod thought his name was–seemed to know, but not like, him. And it appeared to be personal. Well, he wasn't easily intimidated. He never had been–particularly when playing ball; and his time in the Army had only strengthened his resolve. He made a mental note to ask Cooper about him when they met for lunch.

Rod had an eight o'clock class so he left the gym before a lot of the guys. After he left, Mike switched teams. By eight-thirty almost everyone had gone. Mike and Cooper, as usual, shot free-throw's for a few minutes after everyone left.

"What's Calloway doing here?" Mike asked before he took his turn.

"He's a 1L," Cooper responded as he threw Mike the ball.

"You're kidding me, right? I mean, Calloway at law school? This has got to be some kind of sick joke."

"No joke," Cooper said calmly. In response, Mike threw the ball hard against the backboard. "Shit!"

Cooper watched Mike's antics with mild annoyance. He knew the history between Mike and Rod–had witnessed its origins. Apparently, the years had not tempered Mike's feelings. "I know you won't believe this but Rod's a smart guy and he's a good guy. Don't you think it's time to just let it go? It's been years. You're not Sophmores in college anymore."

"Look Coop, I know the two of you grew up together. But Calloway is a spoiled, arrogant punk who got admitted because of who he is and not because of what he has accomplished. He's never earned anything in his life. Guys like him don't change."

"Suit yourself," replied Cooper, "but don't expect me to get in the middle of this ridiculous feud. Come on, let's get showered or we'll be late for class." He didn't wait for an answer but headed to the locker room. They made it to class on time–barely.

XXXXXXXXXX

After class, Mike headed to the law journal offices. He was still fuming over Calloway's re-emergence in his world. When he arrived, Mac–as usual–was already working at her desk. On the corner of her desk sat an enormous vase of red and yellow roses. "Hey Mac, hot date last night?" he said in jest.

"Maybe," she replied.

He knew that she occasionally went out; however, to his knowledge she'd never been serious with anyone–at least for as long as he'd known her. And he certainly had never seen flowers displayed so prominently on her desk. "So, who's the guy?"

"Just someone I met recently," she told him. "It's really no big deal."

But Mike could tell from the look on her face that–despite her nonchalance–it was potentially a very big deal. And this bothered him. He didn't have long to ponder this discovery as she interrupted his reverie.

"Enough about my evening. Are you ready to get to work, Mike?"

He nodded and they set to work.

XXXXXXXXXX

A few hours later, Cooper met Rod for lunch at a deli near the law school. Over sandwiches the two of them caught up on the intervening years. They each were surprised that the other's path had somewhat mirrored their own. Rod had spent three years in the Army–including a stint in the Middle East during the Gulf War of 1991 while Cooper, before law school, had spent a few years in Africa working for Catholic Services.

During the course of their conversation, Cooper voiced his surprise about discovering yesterday that Rod had enrolled in law school. "I thought that for sure you would be playing ball or working in the family business," he said.

"Your not the only one," Rod answered. "Most people–including my family–shared your belief."

"What changed?"

"I guess, I did. You know I tore my rotator cuff junior year. I had a lot of time to study and think as I went through rehab. I knew my pitching career was over and with it, I suppose, my passion to play the game. I decided I didn't like the alternative future that had been planned for me by my family, so I chose something different. While in the Army, I became interested in the law. So I took the LSAT six months before my enlistment was up and here I am. I gotta tell you though, Coop, I was pretty nervous yesterday. I was relieved to run into you."

"It will get easier. It just takes time and diligent study."

Rod smiled at Cooper's choice of words. Mac had told him those exact things the previous night.

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask you, who's the tall and fiery–yet totally feminine–red-head in your class?"

There was only person that fit that description. "You mean Mackenzie Allen?"

"Yeah."

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, we literally collided with each other yesterday morning on our way to class. Unfortunately, she ended up with the worst of it. But I didn't fully catch her name." Trying to sound casual, but failing miserably, Rod asked, "What's she like?"

Cooper found Rod's interest intriguing. He figured there was more going on than he had been told. Mac had asked him similar questions the day before but she hadn't mentioned running into Rod earlier in the day. "Well, she's obviously ugly, a real bookworm," Cooper told him tongue in cheek. "I can't imagine why you would be interested in her?"

"I'm serious, Coop, what's she like?"

"Honestly, she's incredibly intelligent and capable. Aside from that, she is intense but fun, proud and stubborn yet kind. And she's a very good friend."

"You're not dating her or anything are you?" Rod asked inquisitively.

"No. But she is like a sister to me." Cooper paused momentarily and then said quietly but firmly, "And if you hurt her I will make your life miserable."

Rod nodded in silent understanding.

The two of them made small talk until they finished eating. However, it wasn't until they approached the school that Rod remembered to ask Cooper about Mike.

"Who was the guy–I think his name is Mike–that was guarding me this morning. He looked familiar but I can't place him. But he sure seems to dislike me for some reason."

Cooper chuckled sardonically. "Rod, it was Mike Stanton."

"Mike Stanton?" Rod questioned aloud. Suddenly enlightenment came. "Oh... Stanton... Well, he obviously holds on to grudges a long time."

"Yeah, he does. He's still the same intense, competitive guy. But he's also generally a pretty decent guy and a good friend. Don't let him get to you."

"Don't worry, I won't. I have no intention of getting into a pissing match over something that happened years ago when we were teenagers. But if it will make your life easier, I'll try and smooth things over with him."

Cooper smiled and patted Rod on the back. "Good. I'll catch you later... And if you need any outlines or help with the studies, let me know."

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

XXXXXXXXXX

Later in the afternoon, Cooper stopped by the law journal offices to see if either Mac or Mike were free for dinner. He found Mac studying at her desk. He, too, noticed the roses. However, he had a pretty good idea where they came from. Quite the apology from Rod, he thought.

Mac looked up and smiled, "Hey, Coop. How's your day going?"

"Not as well as yours apparently," he said taking a seat on the corner of her desk.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the roses, dear lady." He took a single red rose from the vase and then told her with a wink, "Calloway, it appears, has good taste."

Mackenzie blushed.

Mike arrived on the scene in time to hear two words: roses and Calloway. He saw the color in Mac's face; and his own face reddened for an entirely different reason.


	6. Reading Between the Lines

**6. Reading Between the Lines**

The following afternoon Rod and a few classmates were studying Torts in the library. Day three had so far definitely been more enjoyable than day one–well, except for his dinner with Mackenzie! Nothing in his life recently could come close to matching the pleasure of that evening. And Rod wanted to see her again–soon.

He just wasn't sure what his next move should be. This was relatively new territory for him. He'd always attracted his share of feminine attention without too much effort (including attention from several of his new female classmates). But this was different. Mackenzie was different... or perhaps he was different. Mentally he shook himself. It was time to study, not dream.

A few minutes later his attention was suddenly diverted again by the delightful sounds of a familiar voice. Rod looked up to see Mac striding into the library. He felt his breathe catch. He couldn't have looked away even at the risk of being turned to stone. She was laughing. Her face lit up the room. Rod watched her take a seat at a nearby table. He silently celebrated when she chose a seat facing towards him.

Patrick, who was sitting next to him, must have realized the direction Rod's eyes were taking and whispered to him, "You know who that is don't you? That's Mac Allen–the editor-in-chief of the Law Journal. And if the law school ranked students, the general consensus is that she'd be number one in her class."

Rod nodded but said nothing.

Patrick continued with a shake of his head, "She's quite the intimidating woman, isn't she? Physically, too. I'd like to shake the hand of the man who ultimately takes her on!"

Rod grinned. But still he said nothing nor did he look away. Until... he realized who was sitting across from her. Stanton. And from the way they were sitting and talking, Rod could see they knew each other well. Could it get any more complicated?

He had tried, as he told Cooper he would, to broker a truce with Mike that morning on the basketball court. However, if anything, Stanton had become even more obstinate and obstreperous. In fact, Rod was sore from a body shot he had taken to the ribs. He was already–apparently because of the past–taking a lot of crap from Stanton. But if Mike learned of his interest in Mackenzie, Rod knew things would only get tougher. Even worse, what if Stanton was actually involved with her? No way, he thought. Cooper would have warned him off. Besides, Mac told him she didn't have a boyfriend. She had no reason to lie. However, it would probably be best, he decided, to take things slow and maintain a low profile–for now.

Mackenzie felt someone watching her. She looked up and to her right and saw Rod sitting at a nearby table... looking at her. Their eyes locked. They each smiled.

Mike saw Mac's smile and turned around to look for the source of the inspiration. Calloway. He turned back to Mac and asked, "You know Calloway?"

"Yes," she said, still distracted by the sight of Rod.

"He's the mountain you collided with on Monday morning."

"Yes," she answered similarly. But after a moment, she turned her full attention on Mike. "Rod's only a 1L. How do you know him?"

"I knew him in college. He had quite the reputation for being the Big Man on Campus... and quite the ladies man." Mike reached out, touched her arm and with a look of obvious concern told her, "Be careful, Mac. Don't let him break your heart."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said ignoring the obvious.

"Yes, you do. And I'm telling you to be careful," he told her again with added emphasis, "because you deserve better!"

"Don't worry. I can take care of myself. And right now I've got to read for class next hour."

Mike nodded and Mac began to read. But the words didn't want to compute in her brain. And in spite of her attempts to the contrary, every few minutes she couldn't help but look over at Rod. Apparently he was having a similar difficulty with concentration because their eyes continued to meet. She felt like a teenager with a crush.

He was studying with four or five others–including three very cute, very petite, classmates. Females, Mac noted, who physically were as different from her as night to day. She couldn't help but wonder how much truth there was in Mike's words. Law school had taught her never to take any third party's words at face value, but Mike was a friend. His opinions, however, didn't seem to jive with Rod's behavior towards her; nor did they account for the fact that he seemed not to be focused on the others but only on her. For now, she'd trust her own instincts. But, she'd proceed with caution–if he asked her out again.

Rod had seen Mike turn around and look at him. He knew the conversation that followed had to be in reference to him... and that it couldn't be good. No matter, he thought. He'd get his studying out of the way and then he'd plan their next date. He'd make sure to hit this next pitch out of the park... and Stanton? Well... just like years ago, he could simply take a seat on the bench!

XXXXXXXXXXXX

The next morning Mac found a small envelope with "Ms. Allen" written on the outside, taped to the back of her chair in the journal offices. She opened it and pulled out a note card. The only thing written on the card was: "442 S.W.2d 926. Third Floor stacks."

Mac nearly ran to the third floor of the library. She found the Southwestern Reporter (2nd Series) and pulled volume 442 from the shelf. She turned to page 926 and found a small green ribbon and another note card. This card read: "I'm hoping you'll join me for dinner and a movie on Friday night. If so, leave this green ribbon (along with instructions for where and when to meet you) at: 93 N.E.2d 554." This card, like the first one, was unsigned.

Mac figured it must be from Rod. But she was left with no doubt once she noticed the caption of the case which began on that page: "_Calloway v. Calloway_."

She sat down at a nearby study carrel and, with a reddened face and wide grin, pondered this newest development. She wasn't often caught off-guard, but this man seemed to be making it a regular habit. She thought about the up-coming weekend. She'd told Mike and Cooper–who were both without girlfriends for the moment–that she'd hang with them. Well, they'd understand... or at least Cooper would.

Mac wanted to respond immediately but decided to make him suffer–a little. Besides she needed to get a few things straight in her own mind before she answered Rod's unique invitation. She pocketed the green ribbon and once she returned to the journal offices, she placed this card in her desk drawer next to the first one.

Throughout the morning, she assessed the situation. She'd been on her share of dates and she'd had a few relationships in the past, including one that had ended badly which she didn't let herself think about. But even at this early stage, this felt somehow different–more complex. If Rod focused his attention on other women like he was focusing it on her, she could understand the reputation Mike warned her about. Nonetheless, there seemed to be a quiet understatement–almost a sweetness–to his actions which was at odds with the whole "Big Man on Campus" thing.

The bottom line was she really _wanted_ to see him again, to spend time with him. He made her smile. With him, she wasn't nearly as self-conscious about her height or her perceived academic reputation... because he seemed not to be bothered by either.

After lunch, Mac grabbed a note card from her desk. She followed Rod's instructions. She then affixed the green ribbon to the card and again went to the third floor of the library. Mac pulled volume 93 of the Northeastern Reporter (2nd Series) from the shelf and opened it to page 554. However, this time she first looked at the case caption and really wasn't too surprised to find it titled "_Allen v. Allen_." All the same, it made her smile. She pulled the note card and green ribbon from her pocket and carefully left it just beneath the case caption.

Rod, meanwhile, was about to come unglued. He'd deliberately chose old cases so that the chance of someone else discovering their communication was slim. But he'd been dying to pull both volumes from the shelf all day to see if Mackenzie had received his message and if so, what her response would be. Nonetheless, he'd forced himself to wait. He felt like he was seventeen again anxiously waiting for the answer to his invitation to the Prom!

Finally, by 4 p.m. he could stand it no longer. First, he pulled volume 442 from the shelf and with anxious relief found nothing between the pages.

A few shelves over, he pulled volume 93 and quickly turned to page 554. With muted excitement, he found the green ribbon and a note card which read: "I'd be delighted to join you for dinner and a movie on Friday. Pick me up at 7:00 p.m at #4, York Crown Apartments (located at the corner of York and Crown streets)."

Rod pocketed the note and ribbon and, with a silly grin and flushed face, he left the third floor.


	7. Speechless

**7. Speechless**

Rod arrived at Mackenzie's apartment at the appointed hour. The last two days had both flown by–and dragged on–as he anticipated this moment. The weather was perfect–an ideal September evening. He took in his surroundings and was glad that he knew his way around New Haven. Fortunately, not a lot in the city had changed the past couple of years. He was nervous enough, he lamented, without having to worry about getting lost!

From her bedroom window, Mac observed Rod's arrival. She'd been ready for thirty-minutes and had spent more time in front of the mirror than she usually spent in a week. This, she opined, was worse than being a teenager!

Rod pushed the outside buzzer and was greeted by that familiar voice he was coming to love, inviting him to come in. As he approached her door, he wiped his hand on his Levi's: sweaty palms. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had sweaty palms.

When Mackenzie answered the door, Rod couldn't help but stare. "Hey," he said, "you look great." He kissed her gently on the cheek.

"Would you like to come in?"

"How about a rain check," he suggested looking at his watch.

She nodded. "Let me grab my purse and we can go."

"Great."

As they walked to his car, he told her, "I thought we'd catch an early movie and then have dinner. If, that's okay with you?"

"Sounds good," she said. It was then that she noticed his car–a dark blue Porsche. She wasn't sure why, but she had mixed feelings about it. Rod opened the passenger door for her and waited for her to slip inside before he got behind the wheel.

As he started the car, he turned to her and said, "It's good to see you again."

"Thank you."

Once they were on the road, Mac couldn't help but be impressed by the way the car handled–or maybe it was the way Rod handled the car. "Nice car," she told him. "Is it new?"

"No. It was a gift for my twenty-first birthday. A little ostentatious, I know, but very fun to drive. You'll have to give it a go." He paused momentarily as he reached down and placed his hand on her knee. Then he added in a teasing tone, "I think you'll like the way it responds to your every command!"

In response, she playfully hit him on the arm, but she didn't remove his hand. She found its presence comforting... and exciting. However, she was unnerved by his apparent ability to so effortlessly read her thoughts.

"So what kind of mood are you in?" he asked. "Comedy, drama, suspense..."

"Do you know what's playing?"

"Well, the ones that caught my attention are: _Schindler's List_; _Forrest Gump_ with Tom Hanks; or _Speechless_, a romantic comedy starring Geena Davis and Michael Keaton."

Mac thought momentarily before responding, "I know that I need to see _Schindler's List_, but I really have a tough time with violence. Would you hate me if I tell you that _Speechless_ sounds the most appealing tonight?"

"_Speechless_ it is."

XXXXXXXXX

Rod and Mac left the theater with his arm wrapped around her shoulders. Both of them were smiling. Mac was surprised nonetheless that Rod seemed to enjoy the movie even more than she had. As they drove to dinner, she voiced this thought to him.

"What's not to like? It had good acting, witty dialogue and a political theme," he answered. "So do you think that love and politics can, in fact, co-exist?"

"I've never given it much thought," Mac told him. "I recognize its importance, but I can't imagine ever getting personally involved in politics. What about you?"

"Actually, I've given it quite a bit of thought. And while I haven't made any firm decisions, running for office sometime in the future is a distinct possibility. But I have no idea as to what, where or when. So, what _are_ your future plans–aside from working 80 hours a week at a big law firm?"

"Right now I'm mostly looking forward to working in New York City; and as for the long hours, at least I'll be getting paid to work them–unlike now." Rod chuckled. He'd only been in law school a week but he already understood just what she was talking about.

"But who knows," Mac continued, "how long that enthusiasm will last." She sighed softly and said, "After that, I don't know. Maybe I'll teach or try to become a judge."

Rod reached his hand over the console and covered one of her hands. "Based upon what you taught me about jurisdiction the other night, I think you'd be a great teacher, and you're certainly smart enough to be a judge."

"Thank you."

"Anytime... What about kids? Do marriage and family figure into your future plans, Ms. Allen?"

"Sure. Someday–if it's with the right partner. But I can't imagine not working, too." The truth was that Mackenzie wanted to be a wife and mother... and she wanted a career. She wanted it all! Mac just wasn't sure it was really feasible. She suddenly wondered what Rod's feelings were on the subject. "Do you like kids?"

"Yeah," he said looking her momentarily in the eye. "I love them."

Rod thought about his younger siblings: seventeen year-old twin sisters and a fourteen year-old brother. He couldn't imagine his life without them. He had missed them terribly during his Army days and had gone home whenever he could get leave. In fact, he was leaving for Greenwich first thing in the morning because he'd promised Christopher that he would attend his freshman football game.

Both of them were left with their individual thoughts for a few minutes until they arrived at O'Malley's, an upscale but casual steakhouse. "I hope this is okay?" Rod asked. He was starved. "They have a pretty varied menu."

"This is great," she said. As she spoke, she realized she was hungry.

Before Rod got out of the car, he asked her to open the glove box and remove a small jar with folded pieces of paper inside. Mac did so. Once Rod had opened her door and helped her out of the car, she asked him, "What's the jar for?"

"Wait and see," he told her with a wink. He immediately pulled her close and his lips descended on hers. His kiss was quick but filled with future promise. Mac was surprised but not displeased. Rod, on the other hand, knew he had made a terrible mistake. How, he thought, was he going to keep a respectable distance from her during dinner? He smiled at her in hopes of hiding his physical discomfort. "Let's go eat!"

When Rod made the reservation, he'd asked for a quiet corner table. He was pleased when they were seated at just such a table. As he was driving, Rod ordered ice water and Mac asked for the same. After studying the menu, each of them ordered the filet mignon with salad and a baked potato.

The scope of Mac's relationship with Stanton had, since he'd observed them in the library together, increasingly piqued Rod's curiosity. After they placed their order, he asked Mackenzie in as casual a tone as he could muster, "How long have you known Mike Stanton?"

"We met on the first day of law school. He, Cooper and I all got humiliated during our very first class and we've been good friends and study partners since. He and Cooper obviously knew each other from Princeton."

"And you're only friends and study partners? Nothing more?"

"You're not jealous, are you?" Mac questioned with a twinkle in her brown eyes.

Rod met her gaze. "I could be," he said cautiously. But then he changed his mind. "Hell, yes! I'm completely jealous. It's been driving me crazy since I saw the two of you in the library!"

Mac, again, was surprised by his honesty–and his directness. And again, she felt herself blush. This man, she thought, sure knew how to get under her skin. But she seemed to be getting under his skin, too.

Mac reached over with one of her hands and initiated physical contact with him for the first time. "You have nothing to worry about," she told him. "Mike and I are–and have been–only good friends, nothing more."

Rod smiled in return. He lightly caressed the hand that she had placed on his arm before bringing it tenderly to his lips–never losing eye contact with her. He couldn't believe his good fortune in literally running into her that first morning. This–she–was beyond his wildest dreams!

The sexual chemistry between them was building so rapidly that both of them were relieved when their dinner arrived to break the tension. Each of them were starved and attacked their meals with gusto. Tonight, however, they found no awkwardness in the silence.

Several minutes later Mac asked, "Mike mentioned he knew you in college. How did you meet?"

Rod knew this question was coming, but he didn't like it and he could only imagine what Stanton had really told her. He silently debated with himself how best to answer her. He was the outsider–the newcomer to this party. And Rod really did not want–at this stage in their relationship–to put Mackenzie in the difficult possession of having divided loyalties... nor could he be sure of where her loyalty would lie.

Finally he settled on the path of least resistence. "We're really only casual acquaintances. Our paths crossed a few times several years ago. Until earlier in the week, I hadn't seen him since. I really don't know him..."

"Cooper mentioned that he ran into you at the gym so I assume that means you are playing basketball with them every morning."

Rod nodded and asked mischievously, "You asked Cooper about me, Mackenzie?"

Now Mac was the one who felt put on the spot. She was trapped. She knew it. He knew it.

"It's okay," he told her. "I asked him about you, too."

"You did?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah."

"So that's how he knew the flowers were from you?"

"I suppose," Rod said. "I didn't mention the flowers to him–or our dinner. I only told him that I had run you over in my hurry to get to class that first morning. But Cooper is nobody's fool."

Mac nodded. She knew how easy it was–because of his laid-back demeanor–to underestimate Cooper's intelligence and intuition. "He said the two of you grew up together?"

"Yeah," Rod agreed. "Coop is two years older but he's always been a good friend and mentor–almost like an older brother. We spent a lot of time together playing baseball in the spring and summer and basketball in the winter. I've always looked up to him. And I was very relieved to find a familiar face that first morning."

Just then their server arrived with a dessert menu. Both smiled remembering their dialogue about the cheesecake on Monday night. "Well kiddo," Rod said to her, "are you going to prevail tonight or am I going to be able to impose on you again?"

Rod was a big guy. Mac knew he was probably still hungry. Besides a few of the choices looked very tempting! "How about we compromise, Mr. Calloway, and share the creme brulee?"

"You negotiate a fair bargain, counselor."

While they waited for dessert, Mackenzie took the opportunity to ask him again about the jar she had removed from the glove box. The same jar that had been staring at her from the corner of the table since their arrival.

Rod picked up the jar and opened it. "Well," he told her, "it's kind of a stream of consciousness way of getting to know you. Each of the pieces of paper contain a question. I thought, if you're agreeable, that we could take turns answering the questions. Most of them are really benign: no family skeletons or embarrassing personal anecdotes. I thought I'd save those for later!" he teased.

"So Mackenzie, what do you think?"

"I think it sounds fun. But I think _you_ should go first?"

"I suppose that's only fair." Rod shook the bottle and then withdrew a piece of paper: "Who has been the most influential person in your life?" He gathered his thoughts momentarily and told her, "My grandmother, Rebecca. She's spunky and intelligent but she's also very warm and compassionate. She taught me to love history and about the importance of always trying to do the right thing regardless of consequences."

"She sounds like a wonderful woman."

"She is. You'll have to meet her." Rod passed her the jar and said, "Your turn."

Mac took a piece of paper and read: "What is your birth date?"

"Not fair," Rod exclaimed. "You get an easy question!"

"Hey, it wasn't me who wrote them," she offered up. "But to answer the question: August 4, 1969."

"Why you really are just a kid!"

Mac knew he couldn't be much older than she. "What's your birth date?" she asked suspiciously.

"June 4, 1969," he answered sheepishly.

"Wow, Calloway, you're a whole two months older than me!"

"A lot can happen in two months," Rod told her directly. He waited a minute and then took his next question. "Where did you get your undergraduate education and what did you major in?"

"Now who got the easy question!"

He smiled. "Yale: American Studies. And you, Mackenzie?"

"Brown University: Economics and History." Mac took her next turn. "What experience has had the most impact on your life so far?"

She had to really think about this one for a couple of minutes. Finally, she told him, "I graduated from Brown a semester early so I could get a Master's degree in Middle Eastern Studies from Hebrew University. My eighteen months in Jerusalem really changed my world view. The violence and turmoil present there on a daily basis is no longer just something I see on TV or read about in the newspapers. It's real to me. And how the world community ultimately addresses that conflict will probably determine not only the future course of that region but the entire world."

Rod thought carefully about her words. He thought about his own experience in the Middle East. "I believe you're right about that–which is why it's so important that we choose wise and good leaders."

For a moment, Mac thoughtfully considered his statement.

The arrival of their dessert interrupted their game. They both inhaled the delicious creme brulee quickly and returned to the contents of the jar. By the time they got through most of the questions they looked around to discover they were the only ones left in the restaurant. Time, they each thought, did seem to get away from them when they were together. Their eyes met and they smiled in silent understanding. Rod paid the bill and they left.

XXXXXXXXX

Once they arrived back at Mackenzie's apartment, he walked her to the door.

"I thoroughly enjoyed tonight," he told her. And not wanting to take anything for granted, he added, "and hope we can do it again very soon."

"Would you like to come in?" she asked in a hopeful tone of her own.

"Just for a minute."

A few steps inside the apartment, Rod grabbed Mackenzie by one hand and pulled her against the length of his body. She fit just right. This time his kiss was anything but quick. He discovered that the heat underlying her response was a perfect match for his own passion. And he realized quickly that if he didn't leave soon, he wouldn't be leaving at all! He knew she wasn't ready for that yet–and neither was he.

Rod reluctantly broke their embrace. He said quietly, "I've been dying to do that all week."

Mackenzie, who had been somewhat dazed by the immediateness of her reaction to his kiss, felt slightly embarrassed.

Rod continued, "And I'd love to stay here with you all weekend. But I've got an early day tomorrow and commitments I can't break. Can I see you next week?"

Mac nodded. Rod grinned and took his leave. As he walked to his car, he breathed in the autumn air. Again taking in his surroundings, he realized that the night had been even more perfect than he had anticipated.


	8. Seeds of Doubt

Author's Note: Thanks to a true master for your innovative suggestions and editing wizardry in regards to these next chapters.

**8. Seeds of Doubt**

For once in her life, Mac hadn't needed an alarm clock to wake her. Within a short period of time, she was settled in a single skull on the Housatonic River. Usually Monday mornings were a challenge. But this morning she felt good–really good. She quickly settled into a rhythm and lost track of everything. She was surprised, when she finally looked at her watch, to discover that more than an hour had passed.

If she didn't hurry, she warned herself, she'd be late to the Dean's class–again! And that was an experience she had no desire to repeat. She quickly showered, dressed and pulled her hair back. Make-up, she decided, would just have to wait.

Mac made it to class with a minute to spare. As she was not likely to get called on again so soon, she let her mind wander a little. Had it really only been a week since her collision with Rod? She thought about his creativity and their two evenings together. Looking back, it may have been one of the best week's of her life. She hadn't felt this excited about someone in a long time... if ever.

After class, Mac went to the bathroom to finish getting ready for the day. While she was putting on her make-up she overheard a conversation between two 1L's:

"Great party on Saturday night."

"You're right and I can't believe how many hot guys there are in our class."

"Yeah... like Rod Calloway. He's gorgeous! I mean the guy is tall, dark, rich and totally ripped. Did you see what he was driving?" Mac took a peak in the mirror and noticed that the girl had a sappy, dreamy expression on her face.

"The navy Porsche?"

"Yeah. We totally hit it off. I think he's definitely interested in me."

"Definitely. I bet he asks you out soon."

"I hope so. Let's hurry and get to class. I wanna get a seat next to him."

The two girls left, leaving Mackenzie alone in the bathroom. The day suddenly felt very different to her as old insecurities came rushing back to the forefront of her consciousness. She left her make-up on the counter and quickly shut herself in one of the stalls. She needed a minute to compose herself. And until she did, she wanted nobody to see her.

After a few minutes the hurt turned to anger. Was the party, she questioned with sarcasm, one of the weekend commitments Rod said he couldn't break? How could she be such a fool? Mentally, she shook herself. She wasn't going to feel like this–not again. She took a deep breath, wiped her eyes and stepped back out into the open. She finished putting on her make-up and then went to her office. She had work to do.

However, putting aside her emotions proved tougher than she hoped. She just couldn't concentrate on anything. She found herself staring aimlessly at a spot on the wall. Hurt, anger–and now confusion–were all jumbled together in her thoughts and she was trying to make sense of it all.

Mike was surprised to find Mac sitting like this when he entered their office late that morning. He had expected that, based on her behavior during their dinner Saturday night, she would still be full of excitement and enthusiasm from her date with Calloway. Mike hated that she seemed to really like him. But he also wanted her to be happy. He silently stood and observed her for awhile. She was staring at the wall seemingly unaware of her surroundings. He had never seen Mackenzie Allen so preoccupied. Based on two years of working closely with Mac–two years spent pining for her–he knew something was really eating at her.

"Mac?" He asked tentatively not wanting to startle her.

Nothing.

"Mac?" He said a little louder this time.

Again, nothing.

"Mackenzie?" He said even more forcefully.

Mac turned and looked at him. But it was almost, Mike thought, as if she didn't know he was there. He grabbed a chair and took a seat near her desk.

"What's wrong?" He asked her.

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong."

"You're a lousy liar," he told her with half a smile. "Mac, you've been staring at that wall for a long time. Of course, something's wrong."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"It's Calloway, isn't it?" He asked with regretful disgust.

"Yeah. But if I tell you about it, you'll just gloat. So I don't want to talk about it!" She told him defiantly.

Mike pulled his chair closer and with a gentler tone he said, "I would never gloat about something like this. I can see that something is really wrong. Tell me what it is, it might help?"

Mac again looked at the wall. She had always been able to trust Mike in the past so why not trust him now? After a few minutes, she worked up the courage to speak. Mike already partially knew about her date with Rod. Now she told him about the jar of questions and the fantastic conversation that ensued. She told him what she was beginning to feel for Rod. She basically told Mike everything about the evening. Everything, except for what happened at the end of the night in her apartment. That kiss had awakened something in her that she hadn't known existed. Something that was too precious to share with anyone.

Then she told him about the conversation she had overheard in the bathroom that morning. As she spoke, Mike noticed her face darkened and her voice began to tremble.

"What were the women like?" Mike asked in a smug manner which suggested the answer to the question was obvious.

"Perky, beautiful and petite."

"I'm not surprised. I was afraid of this." Mike reached out and touched her arm. He hated seeing her like this–so vulnerable. "I'm not telling you this to gloat or to make you feel bad. But every time our paths crossed as undergrads, Calloway was with a similar type girl. I don't think he's really into commitment or long-term relationships." He wanted to beat Calloway to a bloody pulp.

Mac nodded. She knew Mike was probably right and it was killing her.

His expression softened. "Mac," he said genuinely, "I care about you–a lot. I don't want to see you hurt. But maybe it's for the best that you are seeing this now instead of later."

Mac just looked at him.

"Come on," he told her, "let me buy you lunch. I'll even let you pick the place."

"Okay," she said giving him a small appreciate smile and the two of them left the school.


	9. Lines Drawn in the Sand

**9. Lines Drawn in the Sand**

Tuesday morning Rod, as usual, played basketball before class. He hadn't seen Mackenzie yesterday. He hoped to track her down today. He knew she was incredibly busy, but maybe they could do lunch sometime during the week; and he wanted to find out her plans for the weekend.

He discovered early in the game that Stanton was in a particularly foul mood. For once, however, they were on the same team, which made it virtually impossible for Mike to physically take out his frustrations on him. Instead, Mike just refused to pass him the ball and refused to help out on defense. Unfortunately, these new challenges were about as frustrating as Stanton's usual tactics. He was almost relieved that he had to leave early to get to his first class.

As he entered the locker room, he heard Stanton angrily call his name. He stopped and turned around. "What do you want?"

Mike stopped about eighteen inches from him and said, "Stay away from Mac."

"What's it to you Stanton?" He folded his arms to keep from pummeling him.

"We both know that you're only using her to get the grades you can't get on your own." Mike took a step closer.

"What do you know of my capabilities, Stanton? You don't know anything about me." He stood his ground and, unwilling to give Mike the upper hand, leaned towards him and said more quietly, "This semester may be pass/fail for me, but I certainly don't need to play some girl to get through it."

Mike glared. "Come on, Calloway, we both know what your type is–and she's not it. You'll only continue to hurt her as you have every other girl in your past."

"Mike, I know you don't like me. But your judgment is being skewed by events that took place at least five years ago. Your perceptions were inaccurate then and they're absolutely wrong now. For the record, you're mistaken about what my type is."

Mike looked at him with utter contempt. "Just keep away from Mac," he said aggressively almost pointing a finger in Rod's chest. "Otherwise, you will regret it. I've known her far longer than you. And she certainly deserves someone a lot better than the likes of you!"

"Someone like you I suppose?" Rod questioned.

"That's right. So stay away from her."

"In your dreams, Stanton." Rod was trying to maintain his cool but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

Mike changed tactics to a tone of superiority. "Calloway, what are you doing here anyway?"

Rod bristled internally, but externally he adopted a posture of open defiance. "Quite frankly, Stanton, it's none of your business... and neither is my relationship with Mackenzie."

"You're not going to win this time, Calloway."

At this statement, Rod went on the offensive. "This isn't a game. It certainly isn't about winning. I can't believe that someone as intelligent as you can't recognize that fact. Let it go, Mike. I know you're important to Mac and I don't want to get between you. Don't make her choose."

The rivals stared down one another for a moment before Rod actually stuck a finger in Mike's chest and threatened, "And _don't_ push me too far."

Rod turned and headed to the showers without a backwards glance. _Damn him_, he thought as he cooled off in the shower. He let the water run over him as he breathed deeply in a deliberate effort to relax and regain his composure. _Why did I let him get to me?_ Cooper wasn't going to be happy about this–and neither, if she knew, would Mackenzie. And frankly, he wasn't happy about it either. He was upset with Stanton. However, he was angrier with himself for giving in to him.

After some minutes, he had mostly calmed down. He quickly dressed and then set out to face the day. He hoped that Stanton was not giving Mackenzie any grief. If he was, then all bets were off.

As he left the locker room he was stopped by Cooper. The two shared a look of mutual understanding.

Rod knew Cooper–like Mackenzie–was caught in the middle; and he respected him too much to make the situation any more difficult.

Cooper knew precisely what was going on; and that Rod would be the one he could get to be reasonable. "He cares a lot about Mac and he's only trying to protect her."

"I know," Rod said in acknowledgment. "But Coop, I have no intention of hurting her. I'm crazy about her."

Cooper placed a hand on Rod's shoulder. "Be patient. He'll come around eventually. Until then, I'm afraid you'll have to be the bigger man."

"I am the bigger man," Rod replied with a smirk as Cooper rolled his eyes and chuckled. "Listen, I'm late for class so I'll catch up with you later."


	10. Second Thoughts

**10. Second Thoughts**

On Wednesday morning Rod waited for Mackenzie outside her Wills & Trusts classroom. He'd had no luck tracking her down all week. She hadn't been in her office or in the library. He would have called her, but he–despite all their time together–had forgotten to ask for her number. He could have asked Cooper for it, but hated to look like the idiot he was for not having it. He'd even driven to her apartment the night before but she hadn't been home and her roommate had no idea when to expect her.

Rod saw Mac before she saw him. Unfortunately, she was with Mike. Regardless, he approached them. "Hey, Mackenzie," Rod said with a small smile, then as an afterthought he turned to Mike. "Stanton."

Mac initially looked surprised by his sudden appearance but she quickly adopted a cool, unreadable expression. While Stanton, as usual, just looked angry. Rod thought about the argument he'd had with Mike yesterday morning. Unlike Cooper, he doubted Stanton would ever come around–particularly to his having a relationship with Mac.

"Have you got a minute, Mackenzie?" Rod said choosing to ignore her companion.

"She's busy," Mike interrupted curtly.

Mac touched Mike on the arm and turned to him. "It's okay. I'll catch up with you later."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

Mike searched her eyes. Rage filled him as he realized Mac was seriously considering hearing the jerk out. There was nothing he could do about it right now so, with a glare towards Rod, he reluctantly walked away.

Rod wanted to make a smart remark to Mike's departing back in the worst way, but he remembered just in time that discretion–particularly in this case–may well be the better part of valor. Instead he turned his full attention on Mackenzie.

"You've been a hard lady to find the past couple of days," he told her with a tilt of his head.

"I've been busy," Mac responded with coolness.

"I bet," Rod acknowledged, disregarding her tone. "What do you have planned for the next hour or so?"

"I've got a lot of work to catch up on," she answered, her tone unchanged.

"Have you had breakfast?"

"No." Mac realized she _was_ hungry. She just didn't want to admit it to _him_.

"You do realize it's the most important meal of the day." He deliberately chose a tone of innocent superiority hoping to elicit some kind of a response.

She didn't disappoint. "What are you, my kindergarten teacher?"

"No, ma'am," he dead-panned, "just a humble man desperate to spend a little time with a beautiful woman... So can I buy you breakfast?"

Try as she might, Mac couldn't help but laugh. He was just too charming. She had been so upset about the conversation she heard in the bathroom that she had decided not to see him again. But when she told Cooper about it, he reminded her that she had only heard one side of the story and that things may not be what they appear. She hoped he was right because her undeniable attraction to Rod was quickly weakening her resolve.

"Okay, Mr. Calloway. Let's eat."

Rod smiled for the first time in three days. He leaned close and kissed her on the cheek before whispering in her ear, "I've missed you."

Mac felt her will weaken even further. Heaven help me, she thought as she followed him out to his car.

XXXXXXXX

While they waited for their breakfast, Rod tried to make conversation. But unlike their earlier times together, today there was no easy companionship. Something was troubling Mackenzie and he wanted to fix it.

"Are you okay, Mac?"

She found it amusing that unlike everyone else, he only called her "Mac" when he really wanted to get her attention. She wasn't ready, however, to give in to his demand. "Fine. Why?"

"You just seem withdrawn, as if you'd rather be sitting in the Dean's class or in the dentist's chair rather than having breakfast right here, with someone who cares."

"I'm just tired." Her voice and expression remained distant.

Rod took her hand. "Anything I can do?"

"You could stay away from other woman," she thought. Instead, she removed her hand and definitively answered, "No."

Mac was relieved when the waiter brought their breakfast. She didn't like the direction this conversation was taking. Rod sensed her unease and let the subject drop. The two ate in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes before he tried again with a new topic for discussion. "I drove home early on Saturday morning and spent some time with my family."

Mac's interest level in their conversation rose instantly. Maybe he would tell her about his weekend without her having to ask. "Where's home?"

"Greenwich."

"Have you lived there long?"

"Most of my life," Rod smiled and tilted his head. He had her interest now and he planned to keep it. "How about you?"

"Bridgeport," Mac answered taking a sip of her juice, "but that's only been the last few years."

"How come?"

"My dad is career Navy." She shrugged. "He's an admiral now but still travels a lot. However, growing up it seemed we never remained in the same place long."

Rod sensed that Mackenzie craved stability. "That must have been tough. Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"No." Mac's expression turned inward.

"I'm sorry." Rod related to her loneliness. He'd been an only child for eight years. There was such an age difference between him and the others that he still on occasion felt that way. Fortunately, the older they got the less he felt like that. "Brothers and sisters are a great blessing."

"What are they like?" Mac was curious. Most young men didn't talk that way about their siblings.

"I have twin sisters, Sydney and Alexandra, who are seventeen; and a little brother, Christopher, who is fourteen."

Rod's expression told her exactly how he felt about them. She wanted him to feel that way about her.

"I went home on Saturday to watch my brother's football game but the twins talked me into taking them to lunch and shopping afterwards... Well, the girls shopped while Topher and I hit the arcade... I must have the word 'SUCKER' tattooed across my forehead in capital letters."

Mac laughed, the expression on his face told her that his protest wasn't heartfelt and that he really relished their hold on him. "They're lucky to have you."

"Thank you." Rod reached for a drink of juice. She had never before paid him a direct compliment.

Mac was taken back by his apparent discomfort. "What did you do the rest of the weekend?"

"Mostly I studied. I did stop by a 1L party for a short time on Saturday night."

At the mention of the party, Mackenzie froze as she realized that on some level she didn't want to know anything about it. However, that feeling was replaced very rapidly by a compulsion to know everything about it. "I heard it was quite the hot party."

"I suppose. If by 'hot' you mean there were a lot of people in a very small space..."

At first glance, it seemed the party didn't leave quite the impression on Rod as it did on his female classmates. But Mac needed to be sure. "Yeah, that's usually the case… Why? Didn't you have a good time?"

"It was okay." With a shrug of his shoulders he added, "You know, it was just a typical Fall party: a lot of drinking and plenty of sizing up as everyone tried to figure out who's the smartest and who will end up with whom."

"What about you? Did you meet someone you want to end up with?"

"At the party?" He was confused. Did she really not recognize that he was only interested in her?

"Yeah."

Rod leaned forward and, with his elbows firmly on the table, rested his chin on his clasped hands. He met Mac's questioning gaze and held it. "I wasn't looking. I'm already taken..."

Mac, too, could not look away. On second thought... she decided that for now she'd give him the benefit of the doubt. But she wouldn't give him her heart.


	11. Revelations

**11. Revelations**

One Saturday night Rod and Mackenzie met several friends at a local restaurant to celebrate Carl Brantley's birthday. He had been Mac's best friend since high school. He, too, was a 3L and worked with Cooper on the moot court team. He was also dating Mac's roommate, Sue Johnson, a graduate student in music and an accomplished pianist. Mac had introduced them to each other a year ago.

The weather was nice so they walked the few blocks from her apartment to the restaurant. Mackenzie was in a quiet mood. But Rod didn't mind. He was content to hold her hand and let his own thoughts wander. Inevitably, his thoughts turned to their relationship.

Since their breakfast together a few weeks ago they had established sort of a routine. They spent at least some time together everyday, studying or catching up–whatever their schedules allowed; and they tried to eat at least a couple of meals together during the week. On the weekends, they spent more time together. They hung out at his condo or with Carl and Sue along with Cooper and his new girlfriend, Kim Smith, a senior majoring in pre-med and chemistry.

While they seemed to be growing closer, and while their physical relationship was good, she was holding back. There was a detachment to her that hadn't been present on their first couple of dates. She was reserved with him at school and around other people; and she didn't seem at all inclined to become friends with his study group or others in his class. And he was the one who instigated all contact. Except for tonight when Mac had not only initiated the invitation, but she'd been rather insistent about his presence. It was almost, he thought, like she was testing him.

He wasn't worried about any test she might throw at him–he knew how he felt about her. Except for one thing: Stanton. Mike would be present with a date tonight. And Rod, whenever possible, preferred to avoid him. Mike had not eased up on him or come around to his relationship with Mackenzie. It was becoming increasingly difficult–on the basketball court and off–not to let him have it.

The only thing that stopped him was Mac and how she would react. Mike was her friend and that couldn't be changed. He'd quickly learned that she was not a woman whom tolerated ultimatums or demands. So he had chosen the path of least resistance and, outside of basketball, kept his distance from Stanton whenever possible. But tonight there was no choice.

XXXXXXXXXX

After they entered the restaurant, Rod again took Mackenzie's hand. He wanted to leave no doubt to anyone as to the nature of their relationship. She looked at him inquisitively but he just smiled and caressed the top of her hand with his thumb.

They were immediately taken to a private room where the others were already seated: Carl and Sue; Cooper and Kim; and Mike Stanton and his date. Rod thought that Mike's date was a fellow 1L. Ironically, she appeared to be exactly the type of girl Stanton had accused him of being attracted to: pretty, petite and blonde.

They took the two remaining seats at the table: Mac next to Mike and Rod next to Sue. "Sorry we're late," Mac told the table.

She turned to Mike's date. She looked suspiciously like one of the girls she'd seen in the bathroom talking about Rod. She panicked momentarily before her pride took over. "Hi. I'm Mac Allen and this is my boyfriend, Rod Calloway. Glad you could join us."

Rod grinned smugly at her introduction while Stanton, as usual, scowled in return.

"Thank you. It's nice to meet you, Mac. I'm Tiffany Anderson. Rod and I are in the same class."

The group made small talk before and after their dinners arrived. Rod enjoyed talking to Sue and Carl. And Cooper, as usual, was the life of the party–cracking everybody up with his jokes and stories. Kim had a similar easy-going, vivacious personality.

Rod felt sorry for Mike's date, however. She didn't know anybody and he didn't seem to be paying her any attention because his focus was solely on Mackenzie. He very casually put his arm around Mac's shoulder and whispered to her, "Tiffany looks uncomfortable. Maybe we should... I don't know, include her a little."

Mac nodded and the two of them turned their attention towards Tiffany, making a deliberate effort to bring her into the conversation. Mac no longer felt threatened by the girl's presence. Rod had shown no hint of being interested in her other than to be polite.

Mike still couldn't believe that Mac would actually give him another chance. Frustrated with both the situation and with feeling shut out of the conversation, he said loudly, "Hey, Calloway... I've noticed there are lots of very pretty girls in your class. Must be a major distraction, huh?"

The table went silent. Rod felt Mackenzie stiffen. He gave Mike a brief unyielding look, before putting a sardonic smile on his face. "Coming from a Princeton man, that is high praise. But Yale has always had more than its share of gorgeous and distracting women."

Rod paused momentarily to look at the women around the table and to smile at Mackenzie. "However, lucky for us, the most beautiful women on campus are sitting right here." He leaned over and kissed Mac on the cheek before raising his glass in a mock toast. He looked at the ladies and offered with a slight bow: "Here's to you lovely and talented goddesses who willingly break bread with us foolish and undeserving mortals."

Everyone at the table except Mike laughed and likewise raised their glasses. Afterwards they returned to their individual conversations. Relieved, Rod inwardly sighed. Stanton could be such a jerk. As Mac had again struck up a conversation with Tiffany, he spoke with Sue and Carl and simply ignored Stanton.

Mike, however, would not be ignored for long. "Calloway," he said with his voice again elevated, "first semester is a killer even for the most intelligent of us. How are you managing to keep up?"

Rod was onto Mike's game now. "Well, Stanton, I suppose just like everyone else... one day, one case and one lecture at a time. But if you're offering to tutor me, I accept. What with all your intelligence and experience..."

Mike's face reddened. And Mac, he saw, was becoming slightly annoyed with the scene that was being played out between them. Rod looked to Cooper as if to say, "Can I get a little help?"

Cooper stepped in. "Hey everybody, I think it's time we embarrassed the birthday boy. Did I ever tell you about the time Carl..."

Carl groaned and shook his head in a pleading, "don't do this to me" manner.

Cooper noted his friend's distress and disregarded it. He told one funny story after another about Carl from their first two years of law school and their moot court competitions. Mac joined in and offered some hilarious anecdotes from high school. Even Sue shared a few stories. Rod sat back and enjoyed the tales, with his chair close to Mackenzie's and one arm draped around the back of her chair. Carl took it all with good humor knowing that he'd eventually get his revenge because every person around the table would sooner or later have a birthday. Eventually, however, even Cooper ran out of stories. And the group moved on to cake and the opening of gifts.

XXXXXXXXXX

At the end of the evening, Rod and Mackenzie again walked back to her apartment. He had an arm draped around her shoulders, and their pace was slow. The night was still beautiful. But Mac was definitively more animated.

"That was fun. I'm glad you came," she told him enthusiastically.

"I had a good time."

She detected a hint of surprise in his voice. "Even with Mike's interrogation... What is it between the two of you?"

"Nothing for you to worry about." He did not want to have this conversation with her. Mike was _his_ problem. There was no good reason to involve her. "Do you know what really surprised me about tonight?"

"What?"

"That you introduced me as your boyfriend."

She looked puzzled. "Why should that surprise you? You are my boyfriend, aren't you?"

"I'd like to think so." He sighed, wondering if he would regret saying more. "But you've never publicly acknowledged our relationship before."

The depth of emotion in his voice surprised her. She stopped and faced him. With a tilt of her head she asked, "And that's bothered you?"

"Yeah... I suppose it has." He looked at her, trying to read her thoughts. How much should he share? He'd never been in this position before. He'd never experienced the depth of feelings he had for this woman.

After a moment's pause, he made a decision. He placed a hand on each of her shoulders and was immediately reminded of how well they physically fit together. "I don't think you understand how serious I am about us... and how quickly you are becoming the most important person in my life."

He paused trying to regain some control. "But Mackenzie, if you feel differently... tell me now."

She was stunned by his revelation and had to look away. She hadn't expected such forthright honesty.

When she did, he dropped his hands and took a step back.

She looked back and saw panic in his eyes. She didn't like seeing him this way. She preferred his normal demeanor: confidant–bordering on cocky. But she was also touched. She'd been so caught up in her own feelings that she hadn't realized that he, too, might be afraid.

She smiled at him sedately and moved closer. "You mean a lot to me, too. I'll try and do better." Reaching out to touch his arm, she added more tentatively, "But Rod, be patient... it's been awhile for me."

He felt the air re-enter his lungs as he allowed himself to breathe.

Then he gave her the smile that would, she realized, always be her downfall.

"For me, too," he reassured her. "But if it's patience you need, then its patience I have. This is a relationship, Mac... it's not a race."

She returned his smile.

It was–she was–the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Unable to restrain himself, he closed the distance between them and held her tight. Then he kissed her and was relieved to experience the unconstrained response he'd felt weeks ago with their first real kiss. He wanted to take her home with him and make love to her all night long. However, he'd promised her patience and promises were something he took seriously. Instead, he lovingly and tenderly kissed her some more before walking her back to the apartment.


	12. Q & A

**12. Q&A**

When Mac arrived at the journal office on Monday morning after class, Mike was already there. She gave him a "hello" in passing and began to work at her desk. She didn't say anything else. She was still annoyed by his behavior during the birthday party.

After a period of silence, Mike turned from his desk and asked, "What's wrong?" He knew Mac was upset, but he hoped it was over something other than Saturday's dinner.

"What do you mean?" she replied somewhat curtly.

"I mean... you didn't sit by me in class and you haven't said two words to me since we got back. What's bothering you?" Mike walked to Mac's desk and took a seat on the edge of it. "Is it Calloway?"

She glared at him before responding impatiently, "No... Rod's just fine–we are just fine. If anyone's bothering me it's you."

Mike, in an attempt to avoid what he knew was coming, gave her a questioning look.

"You were a real jerk Saturday night." She continued to look at him fiercely.

"I was not," he protested.

"Yes, you were," Mac told him definitively. "For most of the evening you ignored _your_ date–who, by the way, is very cute and fun... and instead you tried real hard to provoke _my_ date into a fist fight. What's going on, Mike?"

"Calloway just..." He began angrily.

Mac interrupted, "This has nothing to do with Rod. He was nothing but a gentleman Saturday night. This is about you."

"Mac, I..." Mike looked like he'd been slapped in the face.

Seeing his expression, her own face softened. "Mike, you've never acted like that before... So sit down and talk to me."

Mike sighed and went to retrieve a chair. Once he was seated, he touched her arm and said more gently, "You're right, I was a jerk and I'm sorry." He knew he'd been out of line, but he just couldn't help it.

Mac shook her head. "It's not me you owe the apology. You should be apologizing to Tiffany, Rod and to Carl for causing such a scene at his party."

"You're right and I will." He'd apologize to Tiffany and to Carl, but no way in hell would he ever apologize to Calloway.

"I just don't understand why you would act like that?" she said in a pleading tone.

Mike hadn't thought about how his behavior would impact her. "I didn't mean to be a jerk. I think it was just frustrated, you know... under a lot of stress."

"Want to tell me more about it?" Mac asked with a softer expression and a tilt of her head.

Mike had seen that same mannerism from her countless times... and he found it irresistible. "Truthfully?" he questioned, wanting to gauge the level of her interest.

"Yeah."

"I guess it was a lot of things. I know you don't want to hear this... but I don't think Rod is nearly good enough–or smart enough–for you. And the longer you're with him, the more afraid I am that you're going to get your heart broke because that's just the way he operates. He's just using you, Mac..."

Mike could see her expression again darken so he moved on. "But it's more than that. We're facing a rapidly approaching deadline for the Fall issue of the journal and we're way behind–in part because you're never here because you're always with him..." He paused hoping his words were getting through.

After a moment, he told her hesitantly, "Mostly though... I miss you. I miss my friend. I miss just hanging out together." Mike looked away, slightly embarrassed.

Mac was touched. She hated to admit it, but there was a lot of truth in his words–at least when it came to their friendship and the journal. "You're right. We are behind... and I haven't been doing my fair share of the work lately."

"It's okay," he assured her. "But we can't continue like this or we'll never get this issue to the publisher on time."

She nodded. "I tell you what... how about if you and I spend Saturday getting caught up on journal stuff and then see a movie and get dinner together."

"Sound's good," he told her happily. "I guess we'd better get back to work." He picked up the chair and returned to his desk.

Mac waited until he was seated then she said, "Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad we're friends, too... but no more being a jerk, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am." He smiled and gave her a mock salute before returning to his own work.

XXXXXXXX

An hour later when Mike left to go to class, he met Calloway coming into the office. In passing, he gave Rod a look that said, "you may have the upper hand now but it's not going to last." Rod, in turn, gave him an answering look and a shake of the head that said, "you're pathetic."

"Hey kiddo," Rod told Mackenzie as he approached her desk.

She looked up and smiled. She'd been expecting him... and what he brought with him. For the last several weeks, Rod had come to the office late Monday morning always carrying two dozen roses of various colors. However, each week there were a few more red roses added to the mix. Today, though, he was a little later than usual. "Where ya been?" she questioned.

"Out picking flowers for my lady," he answered cheekily. He set the flowers down on the desk before giving her a light, teasing kiss. "How was the Dean this morning? Did he have his facts straight... or did some other poor sucker get put through the ringer?" he asked as he sat on the corner of the desk.

She smiled as his questions brought back memories of the day they met and their first dinner together. "His memory was pretty good today. How about you... how was civil procedure?"

"Totally boring... but at least it's getting easier."

"I knew it would." Mike was wrong about his intelligence. Rod may be more comfortable in the stereotypical jock role, but he was really very smart... and very creative. She especially liked his creativity.

"I'm glad somebody did... because I never thought I'd survive that first month. And I probably wouldn't have without you." He bent his head and kissed her again.

Mac felt her cheeks grow warm. She wondered if there would ever come a time when she didn't feel totally flustered by every kiss. "How was basketball?"

"It was good." Stanton hadn't been there this morning. "Did you row this morning?"

"Yeah... but I had a real hard time getting up," she told him with a wink. They'd spent last evening at his place doing a lot of talking and arguing about current affairs and the Middle East... followed by a very lengthy make out session.

Rod gave her a knowing smile as he, too, thought about the lateness of their night. "Funny thing, I had quite a difficult time getting out the door myself."

She grinned back... and he, too, felt the heat rise. "So, when are you going to let me join you on the river?"

His interest surprised her. "You really want to come?"

"Yeah, I'd love to row with you."

"Have you ever done it before?" she inquired.

"No," he shrugged with confidence, "but I figure I can learn." How hard can it be, he thought. You just sit in the boat and push back with your arms and legs.

Mac laughed because he had absolutely no idea how challenging it was. "Rod, it's really not as easy as it looks."

Unconvinced–and undeterred–by her warning, he said, "Yeah... but you'll teach me, right?"

"Sure, I'll teach you–starting Wednesday morning." This should be fun, she thought. "Do you want to get some lunch?"

He was sorely tempted to join her. "You know I'd love nothing more... but I've got to finish a legal writing assignment that is probably going to keep me busy the next couple of days. Rain check?"

"Of course."

"Good. I've got to run." He kissed her one more time... only slower and deeper. Afterwards, he lightly ran his fingers down one cheek. Then he bent down and smelled the new roses, and said with his best cocky grin, "I'll talk to _you_ later."


	13. It's Not As Easy As It Looks

**13. It's Not As Easy As It Looks**

As Rod and Mackenzie walked into the boathouse early Wednesday morning, she asked him again, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yeah. Why do you keep asking me that?" he responded somewhat impatiently. He just didn't get what all the fuss was about. How challenging could it really be.

However, by the time they reached the rack where the boats were stored, he had changed his mind. The boats, he saw, appeared to be twice as long as he was and not much more than a foot wide. How on earth, he wondered, would he ever fit his 6' 5" frame on such a narrow platform. "This... this is what you row on?"

Mac stifled a laugh. The look on his face was priceless. "Yeah, Rod... this is what we row on." She tilted her head and asked yet again, "Do you really want to do this?"

Rod looked again at the boats and then at her. "Absolutely," he told her, determined to meet the implicit challenge he'd heard in her voice.

"Okay, let's do it." She said with a slight shake of the head.

They each carried a boat and two oars out to the dock. "The boat goes in parallel to the dock," she told him, putting her boat in the water. "Then we put the oars in the locks." Mac quickly snapped the oars in place.

Rod watched her with keen interest. Putting the boat in the water was easy, he thought, but the whole business of locking the oars... "Could you do that thing with the oars again... only slower?"

She laughed as she remembered having that exact same thought her first time. "Why don't you put your boat and oars on the dock and come stand by me. I'll show you exactly what I'm doing and get you started in this boat."

"Good idea." Rod put down the boat and oars, However, instead of focusing his attention on the boat she was holding, he turned it on her. Approaching her from behind, he placed his hands on either side of her waist and began to playfully kiss her neck.

As usual, she found his touch electrifying, and very distracting. "Rod," she protested, "stop that... or I'm going to let go of the boat and..."

That, of course, was precisely his plan. He whispered in one ear, "You know, we could just skip the boat thing this morning in favor of a far more pleasurable form of exercise."

Still holding onto the boat, she stepped out of his embrace. "You are incorrigible," she said with a grin. "I know what you're trying to do... and it's not going to work. You're the one who insisted on rowing, and that's what we're going to do."

"Can't I have just one kiss first... one little, mind-bending, earth-shattering kiss..." He gave her the look that had proven so effective with the cheesecake the night of their first dinner together.

"No," Mac told him, though she was struggling with the temptation to give in. Strengthening her resolve she added, "Good try, Mr. Calloway. But this morning, I'm the teacher and you're the student... so no monkey business."

"Now where's the fun in that..."

"I don't know... I've always found the rhythm of rowing to be incredibly pleasurable."

"Minx." Rod momentarily forced his thoughts back to the boat as he again approached her. But he was unable to resist the temptation to have the last word. "Okay, Professor Allen... show me how to do this... because I want to experience these seductive qualities of the river."

Mac decided she'd better change the course of their conversation so she refused to meet his gaze and turned her full attention back to the boat. "Stand behind me and I'll show you how to lock the oars."

Rod stood directly behind her as she removed the oars and then slowly locked them again in place. Watching from over her shoulder, he could see that it really wasn't that hard.

"Here, why don't you try it," she told him again taking the oars out of the locks.

"Okay." He took the oars from her hands and quickly locked them in place. "What's next?" he asked cheekily.

"Teaching you to get into the boat without tipping over."

As she intended, this brought him back to earth. "Wait a minute... these things actually tip over?"

"Yeah... if you're not careful. So listen up."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a mock salute.

How tempting it was, she thought, to just let him tip over. Instead she told him, "Take both oars in your left hand. Grab the outside edge of the boat with your right hand and then step in and sit on the seat. Be careful, though, the seat moves." Mac demonstrated getting in and out of the boat. "Okay, your turn."

"You're sure I'm gonna fit?" The boat still looked awfully narrow.

"I'm sure."

Rod followed her directions and did just fine until he tried to sit down. He barely caught the right, front edge of the seat and the boat began to tip. In trying to regain his balance, he overcorrected and the boat tipped in the opposite direction. He had to use both hands to prevent his head from hitting the dock. But the ensuing sound of the oars striking the dock and water was so loud that he nearly lost his balance again. Still clutching the dock, he looked up at Mackenzie. She was laughing hysterically. "It's really not funny, Mac," he practically shouted. "I could have been hurt."

She had to fight to suppress any further laughter. "You're right... I'm sorry," she lied, wishing she'd had a video camera... because his performance could have won her the grand prize on America's Funniest Home Videos. Truthfully, though, he'd never looked more sexy. She bent down and kissed him on the mouth. "Does that make it better?" she asked demurely.

"Much," he said regaining his good humor. "But, Mackenzie, I'm still kind of stuck... These things ought to come with a helmet and a hazard warning."

She grinned. "I told you it's not as easy as it looks." She secured the oars and steadied the boat. "Okay, champ... you can let go of the dock now."

"Very funny," he said giving her a look. But he did as she directed and again sat down in the boat–this time squarely in the middle of the seat.

"Here," she said once he was settled, "let me show you the Basic Rest Position." Mac placed his feet in the straps, lowered his knees, put one hand on each oar and moved the oars until they were over his thighs. The left oar, of necessity, remained high out of the water above the dock.

Rod loved her nearness, and the feel of her hands, as she assisted in the proper alignment of boat and body. Nonetheless, he hoped she finished quickly because he was becoming aroused by her touch. He tried his best not to concentrate on her and the way she made him feel, and instead deliberately thought about breathing and his new position on the boat. When she finished, he asked, "What's next coach?"

"Teaching you to stroke."

He raised his eyebrows. "Really? Why that's something I ought to excel at..." he told her suggestively.

Leave it up to him, she thought, to take even the most innocuous rowing term and turn it into foreplay. Well, two could play this game. "Let's hope so, Mr. Calloway... or we're in big trouble."

Standing there with her hair pulled back, baseball cap on, and hands on her hips, Rod thought she'd never looked prettier. "In that case, we better hope that you are a good teacher..."

"And that you are a quick study..."

He laughed. "Count on it, Ms. Allen..."

Mac felt the familiar heat rise, but she chose to ignore it. "Okay, extend your arms forward with your left hand slightly higher. Then swing your body as you roll the seat forwards, keeping you knees close together."

Rod did as she directed. "Like this?"

"Perfect. Now, normally you would drop the oars back in the water here, but keep them out since we're still docked."

Rod nodded.

"Okay, keeping your arms straight, drive back towards the bow of the boat and then when your legs are fully extended, pull back with your arms and finish with your upper body leaning back and your hands at your rib cage with the left hand still slightly above the right one."

Rod was puzzled. "I thought that 'bow' refers to the front of the boat."

"It does. But we row backwards... so the back of the boat is technically the front of the boat."

"I knew that," he said with his cocky grin. He immediately drove back with his legs and followed with his arms and hands as she'd directed.

"Good," Mac told him. "That's the basic stroke which you just repeat again and again. Are you ready to give it a go on the water?"

"Absolutely."

Mac nodded with a slight smile, knowing that the real challenge still lay ahead. "Hold both oars with your right hand and use your left hand to strongly push the boat away from the dock, leaning a little to the outside."

Fortunately, Rod was a strong guy with long arms because he was a little gun shy about leaning to the side. He did as directed and the next thing he knew he was away from the dock sufficiently to be able to pull back the right oar in the water. This gave him enough distance from the dock to be able to use both oars. He sighed in relief. However, Mac still stood on the dock. He was alone on the river and its slight current was moving him farther and farther away from dry land. "Uh Mac..." he said with a hint of desperation, "you are planning to join me out here, aren't you?"

She laughed, but quickly put the other boat in the water, locked the oars and shoved off from the dock. Within seconds, she had caught up to him. "Hey..." She gave him a wink.

"Hey..." he responded, relieved to again have her so close. "So what do we do now?"

"Just what I showed you on the dock. Move forwards with the oars out of the water then drop them as you drive backwards."

"How do you see where you're going?" he asked, this new concern entering the forefront of his mind.

"You don't," she told him simply. "You just have to have faith in yourself and trust in the course of the river. Give it a try."

"Okay," Rod said hesitantly. He soon realized it was very different to stroke on the open water than it'd been when anchored to the dock. He extended his arms and rolled forwards okay. However, he learned the oars were much harder to control in the water as he executed the backwards drive. He lost control over one of the oars and nearly tipped over. And in his attempt to right himself, he hit one of his knees with the other oar. He let out an involuntary moan as wood made contact with bone.

This time, Mac managed not to laugh. She remembered how many bruises she'd endured as a beginner. Plus, he'd been a really good sport about the whole thing. "Are you okay?"

"It hurts like hell," he said with a wince, still rubbing his knee. "But no way am I going to let this stupid boat get the best of me. Now how do I avoid doing that in the future?"

Mac saw the determination written across his brow and found it rather attractive. "Just make sure you maintain control of the oars at all times–that will keep you balanced. And for now, just stroke with your arms and upper body. Then when you're comfortable with that, add some leg drive."

Her encouragement was just the thing he needed. But... he'd made enough of a fool of himself in front of her for one morning. "Okay. I'm going to practice. Why don't you row ahead and get a little exercise. It's silly for you to waste a beautiful morning watching me."

Watching him could never be a waste, she thought. "Are you sure? I really don't mind staying here."

"I know," he told her with a smile. "But I'll be fine. Besides, I might learn a few things by watching you stroke and emulating your rhythm..."

Mac again flushed at his obvious innuendo. "Okay," she said with more calmness than she felt. "But be careful. I won't be gone long."

Rod nodded and blew her a kiss. "I'll be here when you get back... I hope." Using one oar, he managed to turn the boat around so he could watch her better. She was still smiling at him. It made his heart turn over. He also noticed how confident she stroked, paying no heed to where she was going. Her trust in herself and the river was absolute... and it made him jealous.

Mac, meanwhile, was likewise powerless to take her eyes off him. Not wanting to lose sight of him, she slowed her rhythm way down. She never could have imagined her last year of law school like this–never could have anticipated him... and the way he made her feel. She'd had a few awkward relationships in college. And a mostly heart-breaking affair her first months in Jerusalem. While she had managed to generally put that relationship behind her, she knew that it had left scars–some of them deep.

She'd always considered herself to be very pragmatic. Yet, lately she dreamed of fairy tales and being swept off her feet by a handsome prince. She knew this was Rod's doing... because he had, from the day they met, offered her just that: with his words, his creativity... and his touch. It would be so easy to surrender to him. A big part of her wanted to do just that. But she was still afraid–afraid to trust, afraid to love, afraid to have her heart broken. She wished she had Rod's confidence–in himself, in her, and in their relationship. A confidence that seemed to exist without any corresponding need to compete or control.

Mac sighed. Tired of this internal conflict she felt, she tried to shift her focus only to rowing. She increased her stroke speed and attempted to think only about her course on the river. She wasn't entirely successful. Twenty minutes later, she turned around and made the return trip. By the time she neared the dock, she'd decided to try and sweep her doubts and fears into a corner of her mind. She was sick of the struggle. She deserved more... he deserved more.

When she actually reached the dock, she turned and spotted Rod, rowing on the other side with his head down and with total concentration on what he was doing. She took a few reverse strokes towards him and could tell immediately how much he had already improved. Cooper had told her what a fantastic athlete he was... and he was right. But she knew there was so much more to him than that. She smiled. "Look at you," she said in a light tone, "if I'm not careful, you'll be beating me in no time."

Hearing her voice, Rod stopped and looked up. As usual, her beauty floored him. "No way. I've still got a lot to learn," he told her. Then his tone turned serious, "Besides, I'm here only to row with you... not compete against you."

Their eyes locked. Mac was amazed at how tension filled the air between them could be even when they were separated by a distance of fifteen feet. "Are you ready to call it a morning, Mr. Calloway?"

"I thought you'd never ask," he said mimicking her tone.

Mac rowed to the dock and Rod followed. But it took him a lot longer to bridge the distance. By the time he actually neared the dock, Mackenzie and her boat were out of the water.

"Mackenzie, I seem to be making a habit of saying this... but I'm stuck."

Seeing his expression, Mac decided she'd save the lesson on docking for another day. "Come in slowly at an angle and then raise your right oar. I'll grab it and pull you in the rest of the way."

He did so. Immediately upon getting the boat out of the water, Rod put his hands on her waist and pulled her towards him. "Thank you, Professor," he told her sincerely... before adding mischievously, "but can we go back to being me and you so that I can engage in some monkey business?"

All Mac could do was nod, and that... was all the invitation Rod required.


	14. Past and Present

**14. Past and Present**

Rod looked at his watch as he entered the school cafeteria on Thursday. He was late. And the place was crowded. Apparently the entire law school had decided to eat-in today. Fortunately his height allowed him to easily survey the room. It took him a minute before he finally spotted Mac sitting at a corner table already eating with Cooper and Carl.

As he approached the table he saw that the three were engaged in a rather animated discussion. This wasn't unusual. One thing he had already learned about law school was that it turned argument into a game–or rather a mental exercise. The expression of differing opinions, he was learning, need not become personal in nature or a point of actual contention between participants. Mac had been right, legal advocacy really wasn't about right and wrong answers. It was about positioning, persuasion, analysis and application... and these three, Rod knew, were already very good at it. He hoped some of their abilities and insight would rub off on him.

"Hey, sorry I'm late."

The three looked up and greeted him, surprised at his sudden appearance. Taking a seat next to Mackenzie, Rod reached out to lightly squeeze her shoulder and momentarily make eye contact with her. Then looking at their plates, he realized he was starved.

"Don't let me interrupt your discussion. I'm going to grab my lunch. Does anybody want anything else?"

"Not me," answered Cooper.

"I'm fine," added Carl, as Rod's gaze shifted to him.

Rod saved the best for last. "How about you, kiddo? Piece of cheesecake?"

As he intended, his allusion to cheesecake resulted in a knowing look from her. "Maybe later..." she responded with just a hint of teasing in her eyes.

As she intended, her response resulted in a very cocky grin from him.

Carl and Cooper watched the exchange with amused satisfaction. They both adored Mac and believed that Rod was good for her–that they were good for each other.

"I'll be back in a few," Rod told the group as he stood up. Before he left, however, he leaned down from behind Mackenzie, and placing a hand on each shoulder, softly whispered to her, "Have I told you yet today how beautiful you are?" He felt her body sigh and saw a hint of a blush appear as she turned slightly towards him. He lingered a minute, enjoying the physical sensation he always experienced when they were so close. Standing up straight again, Rod allowed his right hand to lightly trace a path from her shoulder blade up along her neck before he finished with a little tug on her ear.

Mac felt like her skin was on fire. Somehow he always managed to catch her off-guard with even the simplest display of public intimacy. Though she pretended otherwise, she still wasn't comfortable with it and was almost embarrassed by it. She recognized, however, that the real source of the embarrassment was internal. Deep down, she was afraid to believe that a guy like Rod could genuinely find her attractive and desirable... and she was worried that others would share her belief.

"Is Rod limping?" Cooper asked Mac.

His question brought her out of her reverie. She turned around and couldn't help but chuckle a little. Rod was definitely favoring the leg he had hit with the oar. Yesterday he had, she realized, yet again surprised her. It hadn't bothered him at all that she could do something better than him. Her expertise and knowledge posed no threat to him. Rather he had been both playful and self-deprecating. In accepting her direction, he had manifested a determination to succeed that was unaccompanied by any need or inclination to either show her up or put her down.

"Yeah... he's limping alright."

The whimsy in Mac's expression piqued Carl's curiosity. "So... are you going to tell us about it?"

Mac knew she shouldn't tell them. Rod may have been a good sport about it with her... but he would probably hate being embarrassed in front of the guys–especially Cooper, who never forgot anybody else's tales of humiliation. Rod would hear about this for years to come.

Nonetheless, she just couldn't help herself. It was a comedy of errors that had to be told. "Rod went rowing with me early yesterday morning. It was a totally new experience for him. He thought it would be simple... no problem for a super jock. I told him it's not as easy as it looks, but you know Rod."

Both boys began to chuckle. Mac had tried in vain during their first-year to get them to row with her. She almost had them talked into it on one occasion. However, they were smart enough to go down to the boathouse beforehand and investigate what it actually would entail. They took one look at how long, skinny, and flimsy the boats were and immediately determined that there was not a chance in hell they would ever accompany her on the river. Cooper had decided that he'd stick to sports that either involved a ball... or at least a vessel that was sea-worthy. Carl's ideas about sports, on the other hand, centered mostly on chess; and he'd discovered nothing about rowing that would have caused him to change his mind.

"Mac," Cooper complained, "you know you can't leave us hanging... Come on, tell your brothers everything."

Mac momentarily winced with indecision. She really shouldn't do this to him, but... "Well, when we walked into the boathouse he was all cocky... until he saw the boats. I swear he took one look at 'em and about had a heart attack. He just stopped dead in his tracks and stared. I can only imagine what he was thinking. Then once we got outside... he lost his balance trying to sit down in the boat. He almost tipped over, dropped both oars and came within inches of smacking his head on the dock."

"You're making this up." Cooper could hardly contain himself, thinking this was just too good to be true.

"I'm not... I swear. I almost wet my pants I was laughing so hard." Just describing the incident brought back a host of emotions for Mac and she started laughing again. Her reaction, of course, inevitably caused Carl and Cooper to join in.

When Mac was finally able to catch her breath and wipe the tears from her eyes, she went on, "But that's not all. Once, we finally got out on the water... in trying to drive backwards with his legs, he almost tipped over again and smacked his knee with an oar while trying to regain his balance. And that, I'm sure, is why he's limping. He must have a bruise the size of a tennis ball. I managed not to laugh then but he just looked so..." Mac couldn't control herself any longer and lost it again.

Rod returned to the table to see all three of them dissolved in laughter. Cooper looked at him with a wicked smirk. "Hey champ... heard you almost drowned yesterday?"

Rod saw Mackenzie turn slightly towards him and briefly he caught her expression. She looked suspiciously like the proverbial cat that had swallowed the canary. However, she very quickly turned away and began to focus exclusively on the contents of her lunch.

He shook his head with a knowing grin. "Yeah... twice. Anybody want to see? The bruise is about the same color as my car." He put down his tray, placed his injured leg on his chair, and pretended to reach for his pant leg.

Cooper leaned back in his chair and raised his arms in a mock stop sign. "Hold on champ... we don't want to lose our appetite from being forced to look at your lily white skin."

"Ah Coop... can I help it if I lack your's and Carl's physical prowess and innate sex appeal?"

Cooper laughed with derision. "Oh please... Mac, did I ever tell you the reputation Rod had in high school and college?"

"Now Cooper, you know that Mac and Carl would be totally bored by my experiences as an Altar Boy..." Rod's tone was light but he gave Cooper a pleading look.

Of course, this was entirely the wrong thing to do as Cooper preferred his victims be as uncomfortable as possible. "Right... Altar Boy. No, I'm talking about the rich stud who used to cruise the streets of Greenwich in a souped-up 1965 black Mustang Convertible."

Rod shook his head as Cooper continued, "Whatever happened to that car, anyway?"

"It's at home in the garage." Rod still loved that car. He and his dad had restored it themselves. It took them two years starting when he was fourteen. Rod sensed Cooper was far from being done with him. Maybe, he thought, if I just play along for a few minutes, he'll get bored. It was, after all, just a game to Coop who really didn't believe half of what he said.

"Oh right," Cooper opined, "it's just not as sophisticated as the Porsche."

"No... just more sentimental." Rod had great memories of the time he spent with his father on that car. "So does anybody need a refill?" He had changed his mind about playing along and began to stand, glass in hand, hoping he could make a timely exit.

"No way," Carl said, "we want to hear more." He saw this as the perfect opportunity for some payback from the torture he had suffered at his birthday party. Besides he had never seen Rod look anything but totally comfortable.

Rod didn't know whether to stay or leave. But he quickly decided he'd better stay. He sat back down and drained the remainder of his Coke. He knew what was coming next. He was very aware of the general perception: That he was a spoiled, playboy who had everything handed to him and who had never worked for anything. In truth, he wasn't that guy–he never had been. It had just been easier to live with those perceptions than it would have been to try and convince people otherwise. Besides, so far as reputations went, it was a pretty useful one for a young guy to have. It made him popular and took a lot of pressure off him... so he had gone along with it during high school and college. However, his biggest fear now was that Mackenzie would see him that way. He knew what Cooper was going to claim and he could only imagine the similar things Stanton had been saying to her for weeks.

When he mentally rejoined the conversation he heard Cooper saying, "the only person to ever be elected Student Body President twice, winner of 5-6 State Championships, and there wasn't a girl in the school regardless of grade that wasn't totally in love with this guy. It was a 'babe of the week' contest with him. And college, was exactly the same–always a ton of women fighting to do his laundry, cook his meals, write his term papers. This guy never had to do anything for himself..."

Rod was afraid to look over at Mackenzie. She'd been unusually quiet. He could only imagine what she must be thinking and none of it was good. Instead he chose to laugh, hoping to derail Cooper from any further humiliation. "Cooper... that is absolutely ridiculous. Everyone at this table knows that it is you who is the real babe magnet. The rest of us could never hope to live up to your reputation."

Mac smiled slightly and Carl laughed, telling Cooper, "He's got you there, Young."

Cooper grinned. "I hold my own..." He pointed his head towards Rod. "But I was never in this guy's league."

Mac knew there had to be truth in Cooper's claims. Mike had repeatedly told her the same story. She'd had an unspoken crush on Cooper during their first-year. But she knew that he–like the other cute and athletic guys in high school and college–would never see her like that, would never be attracted to her or ever look at her as anything but a smart, fun girl who made a great friend. And if Cooper saw her like that... how could Rod really see her any different–especially long term. Particularly when there were always so many eager, cute girls hanging around him at school and in his study groups.

Rod decided he'd had enough. In an attempt to change the subject, he said wryly, "Coop, you are so full of crap... But we did have a lot of fun. Do you remember the time we took all of the tires off the cheerleaders' cars and blamed it on the football team?"

Cooper chuckled. "Yeah... as I recall, we planted the tires in the football locker room, and the coaches made the entire team run extra 100-yard ladders in addition to putting all of the tires back on."

Carl could only shake his head at their antics while Mac just looked at them, trying to decide if they were telling the truth and if so, how they ever got away with it.

Cooper and Rod were now completely ensconced in the past. "What about the time you pounded 20 hotdogs in about 5 minutes during that lunch contest?"

Rod groaned. "Don't remind me. I haven't looked at a hotdog since... Hey, how about the alteration we made to Mrs. Anderson's classroom?"

"I'd forgotten about that... that's a good one." Cooper turned to Mac and Carl. "Mrs. Anderson was this totally uptight English teacher who loved to pile on the homework during Christmas vacation. I mean she would make us read complete novels like _Moby Dick_ or _A Tale of Two Cities_ and then answer hundreds of study questions. Everybody hated her. Anyway, her classroom was centrally located so we used to hold voting for school elections in her room during lunch. One day Rod and I were running elections for homecoming queen–who ended up being Rod's date by the way. So we're sitting there during the latter part of second lunch and suddenly we both notice what she had written in big cut-out letters on a bulletin board across the front of the room: _I write to find out what I am thinking about_. Well, we looked at each other and decided it was just too good to pass up. We quickly grabbed a couple of chairs and changed it to read: _What the hell am I writing about_."

Rod picked up telling the rest of the story. "She didn't see it until halfway through the next period, which was a freshman class. She totally exploded and wanted us suspended. Luckily, the principal intervened. But the two of us never got out of the doghouse with her. Only Cooper was a senior so he didn't care. I, on the other hand, had to kill myself the entire next year just to get a semi-decent grade from her."

"Yeah," Cooper realized, "I guess you did end up with the worst of it on that one... But enough from Greenwich, I think it's time we heard from the Hartford delegation. Come on Carl, we want to hear about Mac."

Mac, Carl observed, had turned inward. He knew his friend. She did not like attention turned on her... and she hated to be embarrassed. He shrugged. "There really isn't much to tell–nothing anyways that could compete with your shenanigans. We're much more sober and sophisticated in Hartford."

Mac felt immediate relief. She could always count on Carl.

Cooper grunted. "Now who's full of crap?"

Carl looked at his watch, "Besides, Coop, we're late for that practice round." There was a big moot court competition next week, and they were supposed to help prepare the team members who would be representing the school.

Cooper looked at his own watch. "You're right, we'd better take off."

After the two of them left, Rod went and sat across from Mackenzie. He was worried because she seemed a little distant. "Well, that was totally embarrassing. I hope you know Cooper was totally exaggerating most of that stuff."

"Yeah... Cooper does that."

She didn't look or sound convinced. In fact, she appeared to be someplace else entirely. "What's going on?"

He got no response. He reached out, took one of her hands, and lightly caressed it. He leaned forward slightly and with concern in his eyes said again, "Mac... what's going on?"

"Huh..." Then seeing his look she told him, "Nothing is going on... I'm just distracted by all I've got to do."

He didn't completely buy her explanation but he played along. "Okay. I won't keep you. But what do you want to do this weekend?"

This weekend... Mac had forgotten about Mike. She still hadn't told Rod about Saturday and she dreaded doing it now. She wasn't sure how he was going to react to that news. Frankly, she wasn't sure how she wanted him to react. Part of her hoped he would pitch a small fit because it would prove he really was jealous and didn't want her spending time with another guy–even if they were just friends. "I told Mike that we'd spend all day Saturday catching up on journal work. We're way behind in part because I've been spending so much time with you. And I promised I'd go to a movie and have dinner with him afterwards."

"I see." Rod's tone was flat. In an effort to mask his frustration and maintain a firm grip on his emotions, he reached for his lunch tray. "Well, what about tomorrow night or Sunday?"

"Are you mad?"

He let go of the tray and leaned back. "Would it matter?"

Mac was confused. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean, Mackenzie, is that if I had a problem with you hanging around with Stanton, would you reconsider it?"

"We work together... and I promised him I would."

"Exactly." Though he wanted desperately to tell her to keep her distance from Mike, he couldn't. He didn't know why, but Mackenzie still did not fully trust him. Because of that he had decided that it was critical that he demonstrate his unequivocal trust in her. Moreover, she'd been friends with Stanton for over two years, and he'd been around for a little more than a month. He didn't think Mac would appreciate it if he tried to dictate the terms and conditions of her friendships.

"We're just friends." Mac's tone was sedate.

"I know." He shrugged, his tone lightening which gave him the appearance of being completely at ease with the situation. "Don't worry about it."

"You could come with us..." Mike, she knew, would hate it. But she was more concerned about Rod's feelings.

"Thanks, but I'll pass." There was no way he was going to voluntarily spend another evening with Stanton–even if it meant more time with Mackenzie. He saw enough of him on the basketball court, where even there nothing had changed between them.

Mac wasn't surprised by his refusal. She knew there was a lot of tension between he and Mike. She just didn't know why. She wanted to ask him about it.

Rod, however, didn't give her the chance. "Besides there are some people I've been neglecting that I probably should check in with, too." He smiled weakly. "What about tomorrow night?"

Mac sighed. "I don't know, Rod... I'm not just behind in my journal work, but class, too. I've got a ton of reading to catch up on."

"Hey... I understand. You're not the only one in law school, you know."

She realized how smug she'd sounded. "You're right."

"Is there any reason we can't read together?"

"Only that we never get much school work done when we're together... You're very distracting."

"Thank goodness," he exclaimed. "I was beginning to think you were completely immune to my obvious charms."

Rod tried to read her reaction to his tease but couldn't. This was unusual. He generally innately understood what she was thinking. He knew her grades were important to her–even as a 3L. He knew that her journal work was exhausting. He didn't want to pressure her. He was afraid that would only backfire. And he was worried that Cooper's comments–combined with Mike's antagonism–were affecting how she felt about him. "I tell you what... I'll clean up here. You go work on whatever it is you need to work on. And if you feel like getting together tomorrow night, call me."

Mac didn't know how to take his suggestion. Why did he back off? Did he really not want to spend time with her? She was afraid to ask him about it... afraid to find out she was right. "Okay." She stood up to leave.

Rod stood, too. Intercepting her as she left the table, he leaned into her and kissed her softly on the lips. "Have a good afternoon."

"You, too."

After she left, Rod sat back down. Damn, he thought, women are complicated–especially that one.


	15. Play It Again

**15. Play it Again**

Mac was late arriving at the movie theater Saturday night. She and Mike had worked most of the day getting caught up on journal stuff. Mike was right. They were behind. She had left him a few hours earlier in order to exercise and get a few things done.

She bought her ticket and headed into the lobby. The place was crowded. She hoped he was already saving them seats. As usual, the wafting smell of the popcorn was a huge temptation. But if she gave in to it, then inevitably she'd given in to the even stronger urge for something sweet. She had never been able to eat something salty without following it up with something sweet.

As she walked through the lobby she was shocked to see Rod through the crowd, standing with his head bent, against the far wall near the women's restroom. While she remained confused and unsettled by their last conversation, she was glad to see him. They hadn't spoken since lunch on Thursday. She'd called him late yesterday morning but he hadn't returned the call.

She started towards him until she observed his companion and stopped, a sick feeling washing over her. The girl was beautiful, about a foot shorter than Rod with a lean build and long dark hair. They appeared to be very familiar with one another. His arm was draped casually around her shoulder, his head bent towards her. _They make a striking pair_, she thought. She was hurt. She was angry. She was embarrassed. She didn't know whether to cry or slap his face. Instead, she turned away, fighting for composure. She slouched a little and walked quickly in the opposite direction hoping he hadn't seen her.

Mike, however, had been waiting for her. He'd watched her come into the lobby and then saw something cause her to look puzzled and then happy as she changed directions. Almost as sudden, she stopped and when she turned back around, her expression was completely different. Her face was dark as she walked briskly towards the other side of the lobby.

He immediately moved towards her while glancing in the direction from which she came hoping to discover the cause of the almost instantaneous change in her demeanor. It was Calloway and he was with another girl. Mike clinched his fists as feelings of anger and hatred came over him. This guy hadn't changed at all. He was still the same spoiled, self-righteous playboy. Only now Mac was the victim. _Well_, he promised, _Calloway isn't going to get away with it this time._

Mac saw Mike coming towards her and wiped at her eyes, making sure none of the tears she had felt welling up inside had actually escaped. She hated emotional display; and she didn't want to talk about Rod–particularly not with him. She quickly realized that he must have observed what had happened by the way he immediately embraced her.

"Are you okay?" He spoke softly, his voice filled with concern.

"Yeah." She pulled away from him, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Do you want to leave?" He gestured towards the door. "You know, skip the movie or go someplace else? We don't have to stay." In response, he saw her resolve stiffen.

"No," she said definitively, her face filled with determination. "We're staying. But can we just watch the movie and not talk about it?"

"Okay," he told her in a sympathetic tone. "Look, why don't you go get us a couple of seats and I'll get some drinks. Do you want anything to eat?"

"Yeah, popcorn. Lots of popcorn." She began the walk towards the right theater but then turned slightly and told him over her shoulder, almost as an afterthought, "and something chocolate." _To hell with my diet_, she thought.

He chuckled. "Popcorn and chocolate. Got it."

She hoped that he wouldn't confront Rod. She didn't need or want anybody fighting her battles. She found them a couple of seats towards the back, slightly to the side. She didn't want to attract attention tonight. She tried not to think about Rod and what she'd seen, but it was impossible. _Who was the girl? Not someone she'd seen around the law school; and she appeared to be very young. Was Rod just playing her? Or was it some sort of payback because she'd spent the day with Mike? She'd told him they were going to a movie. Had he guessed which theater they'd be at and come here deliberately, hoping she'd see him?_

Mike had repeatedly told her what Rod was like; and indirectly, so had Cooper at lunch. She hadn't wanted to believe it. She wanted this time to be different, wanted him to be different. And he had seemed different. His interest and attraction had seemed genuine. She just wished she knew what he was really thinking. If it had really bothered him that she was with Mike, why hadn't he just said so... or why hadn't he just come along?

When Mike came into the theater, he located Mac staring at the wall, lost in deep thought. He hated what Calloway was doing to her. The guy was such a jerk. _How does he continue to get away with it?_ He handed her the large popcorn and chocolate, then sat down next to her.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

She wasn't hungry anymore. The initial urge to eat replaced by a dark foreboding. However, she nibbled on the popcorn anyway as a distraction.

Mike could tell that her mood was still heavy. He turned and placed a hand on her arm. "Mac, I'm not going to say anything. But if you want to talk, I'm here."

"Okay," she said with a slight nod, turning towards him. "Thanks."

"Anytime."

She returned her attention back to the popcorn. She was relieved when the movie started a couple of minutes later. She was not in the mood to talk.

At the end of the movie, she didn't immediately get up. Instead she sat and watched all of the credits and then watched everyone else leave. She was not going to have a repeat encounter with Rod on the way out.

Mike was surprised at her behavior. She was always in a hurry to get out. But he didn't say anything but waited until she finally stood up. As they walked out, he asked, "Where do you want to eat?"

She'd forgotten about dinner. "Mike, do you mind if we skip dinner tonight? I'm tired and not hungry."

He stopped and turned towards her. He was worried and wanted her to feel better. "Mac, I know what's going on. Maybe you're wrong. There could be nothing between Rod and that girl. It may have been an innocent conversation."

She hadn't expected this from him. Mike had never said anything remotely nice or positive about Rod. "You don't believe that, do you?"

"No, I don't," he responded firmly with a shake of his head. "The guy's a player." Then with a kinder tone, he added, "Mac, this isn't about me. It's about you and what you believe."

Mac nodded. She wanted to give Rod the benefit of the doubt. Last time, there was nothing to it–just some stupid girls talking in the bathroom. This time, however, she had seen it with her own eyes. "I'm tired and want to go home."

"Okay." He was disappointed but knew better than to try and change her mind. "We can do dinner some other time. Promise you'll call me if you need anything or if you want to talk."

"Sure."

XXXXXXXXXX

When she arrived back at the apartment, Carl and Sue were cuddling on the couch. "Hey..."

"Hey." Carl immediately noticed something was wrong. He sat up and moved to the edge of the couch. "What's wrong, Mac? Weren't you out with Mike tonight?" He hadn't expected her back so early.

"Yeah. I'm tired. I'll talk to you later." She didn't wait for a response, but went to her room.

Carl turned to Sue. Although, she and Mac were roommates, he was much closer to Mac. They'd been close friends since high school. "Something's wrong. Do you mind if I talk to her?"

"Of course, not." Sue knew how close the two of them were, and how long they'd known each other. She also knew that there was absolutely nothing but friendship between them. "She needs you."

"Thanks." He kissed her. "You do know I love you?"

"Yeah. Me, too."

Carl walked down the hall and knocked on her door. "Mac... I'm counting to five and then I'm coming in." This conversation would not be an optional activity. He counted to five slowly and then went in.

She was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

He sat down next to her.

She rolled towards him, raising up on one elbow. "I have to talk, don't I? You're not giving me a choice."

He nodded. "What happened?"

She sat up against the headboard and pulled her knees in towards her chest. Still not completely looking at him, she said quietly, "I saw Rod at the movie with somebody else."

Carl shook his head. "I don't believe that..."

"Carl, he was there with his arm draped around another girl."

"What were they doing?"

"Talking and laughing. I don't know... they were just so familiar with each other. I mean, the way he looked at her." She looked away. Though she was with Carl, she was embarrassed. _What did this girl have that she didn't?_

Carl gently forced her to look at him. "I think you're wrong. You must have misinterpreted what you saw. I don't believe he was actually with this girl. I've seen Rod with you. I've seen the way he looks at you and how caring and considerate he is with you. Mac, the guy is in love with _you_. No, the girl must have been an old friend or somebody like that... no way, was he with her."

"How can you know that? You've known him for less time than I have. Mike and Cooper have known him far longer than either of us. Mike says he's a total player; and you heard Cooper talk about his reputation at lunch."

Carl saw the fire in her eyes. He almost felt sorry for the guy, because he didn't believe for one minute that Rod was cheating on her. "Mac... come on. You know Cooper. He's a tease. He loves to provoke a response, loves to see people squirm. It's all in fun. You know he doesn't believe most of what he says. And neither should you."

Mac wasn't looking at him. She had returned to gazing at the ceiling.

"Mackenzie, look at me."

She lowered her head.

"I don't know what Mike's beef is with Rod. But Cooper adores you. You're the sister he's never had. There's no way he would encourage you to have a relationship with Rod if he were that kind of guy. You have to know that..."

Mac felt herself start to lose it. She was not going to cry–not even in front of Carl. Emotion welling up, she told him quietly, "I don't know anything right now. I'm tired and I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Okay," Carl told her tenderly, as he put his arm around her. "Get some sleep. But Mac, don't trust your eyes, trust your heart." He kissed her on the cheek and got up to leave. Before he opened the door, however, he told her, "Sue and I are here if you need us."

"Thanks, Carl."

After he left, Mac lay back down on her bed, and cried. Then with a sudden craving for fresh chocolate chip cookies, she called her mother and told her she'd be home in time for church.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac spent Sunday with her mother. Her father, as usual, was away on Navy business. After supper, they talked about the semester and her work on the journal. They talked about their upcoming trip to Paris and London over her fall break. They talked about her job and her upcoming move to the City. But they didn't talk about Rod. She hadn't told her mom about him yet and she wouldn't now that everything was so unsettled between them. Besides, she'd never been comfortable having a "Guess what, I have a new boyfriend!" conversation with anyone–even her mother, whose love and support she knew were absolute and unconditional.

She'd left her phone in the car. When she left home that evening to drive back to New Haven, she saw that Rod had left a couple of messages for her to call him. She didn't. She was hurt and confused; and she wasn't ready to have the conversation she knew they needed to have. She decided to wait until Monday when she knew she'd see him in her office, with fresh roses in hand, and an invitation for a late breakfast or early lunch. She'd come to look forward to that ritual. It made her feel special.

However, she didn't see Rod on Monday. He'd left her a message that something "had come up, but to call me... if you want." She didn't. She didn't see him on Tuesday either. Nor did he call.

XXXXXXXXXX

By Wednesday, Mac was more angry than hurt. _What was up with him?_ Had she been dumped without even the courtesy of a single word of explanation? She decided she was done with him. It was probably for the best. Now she could focus on her schoolwork, the journal, and on becoming the best lawyer she could be.

When Rod arrived at her journal office mid-morning, he found her hunched over her desk with full-concentration on her reading. Instinctively he smiled. There were so many things he loved about her, including her incredible intelligence and her ability to focus on whatever task was at hand. He almost hated to disturb her. But he'd missed her terribly. It had been six days since he'd seen her. He looked like hell, and truthfully, he felt even worse. But he couldn't stand not seeing her as soon as he'd been able.

Not wanting to startle her too much, he quietly set the roses down on the corner of her desk. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the vase and looked up.

"Hey..." he told her huskily.

She was stunned by his appearance. She looked at him superficially. He was wearing old levis and a heavy sweatshirt. His hair was unkept, and he had at least three days growth on his normally clean-shaven face. Frankly, he looked hung-over, which only heightened her feelings of anger and frustration. "I'm surprised to see you," she said harshly as she turned her attention back to her work.

"Yeah, I..."

"Rod, I've got a lot to do," she impatiently interjected, while still keeping her eyes mostly on the book in front of her.

He expected her to be upset that he hadn't been around. However, he was stunned by how cold and impatient she was being. Nonetheless, he wasn't ready to give up, regardless of how lousy he felt. "I know," he told her with understanding. "But have breakfast with me, Mackenzie. It won't take long. We haven't seen each other in days."

"Whose fault is that? Besides I'm not hungry," she answered without taking her attention from her book.

Before Rod could respond, Mike walked into the office. Instantly his emotions turned from patient understanding to anger. He had no desire to be in the same country as Mike at the moment, let alone in the same room. And he would never beg for Mac's company in front of him. With a shrug, he told her, "Fine... whatever you want. I'll call you later."

She heard the abruptness in his voice and felt the change in his demeanor. She looked up only to see his back as he left the room. He'd never used that tone before with her. Something was wrong. But she was still too frustrated to deal with him so she went back to her reading, shutting out everyone and everything in the process.

XXXXXXXXXX

Several hours later, Carl and Cooper came in and found her alone in the office, still focused on her class work. They grabbed a couple of chairs and sat down around her desk.

"What are you two troublemakers up to? Aren't you supposed to be in class?" Mac said affectionately, with a mock scold.

"Yeah, but first we want to know what happened to Rod," explained Cooper.

Mac was puzzled. "What do you mean, what happened to Rod?"

"Are you kidding? Haven't you seen him?" He was amazed.

"Yeah, I saw him late this morning." Now she was concerned. "What about him?"

"Mac," Carl told her, "on the way in we saw him across the quad. He looks like hell and his arm is in a cast. He was too far away to catch his attention, so we thought we'd ask you about it."

She was stunned. All she could tell them was, "I don't know what happened." Instantly she felt terrible. She hadn't noticed his arm.


	16. Talking Points

**16. Talking Points**

After the guys left, Mac tried to get back to work. It was hopeless. All she could think about was Rod. She walked around the school and the library hoping to run into him. But he must have gone.

She left campus and went home. She quickly changed into shorts and a T-shirt. She needed to figure things out, and running usually helped her find perspective. When she set out, she did so at an unusually fast pace. She felt so conflicted... and so guilty. She maintained this pace until her lungs burned. Finally, when she felt like she couldn't take another step, she allowed herself to slow down.

She didn't know what to believe about Saturday night. What she did know was that she'd been unkind and totally self-absorbed this morning. How could she have missed the fact that his arm had been in a cast? She needed to see him–to make sure he was okay. What if he didn't want to see her? Or what if he already had company? Perhaps, she could casually drop by with dinner. Food was always a good idea with him.

XXXXXXXXXX

An hour later, freshly showered and made-up, she stood on the doorstep of his condo, her arms full of food. She didn't immediately ring the bell, however. First she surveyed the parking lot for clues as to whether he was alone. Next she put down the bags of food, and checked herself in the compact mirror she carried in her purse. She was stalling. This was more difficult than she had anticipated.

Rod, meanwhile, had awakened on the couch and initially had no idea of the time. In fact, it took him a moment to remember why he was home and why he felt like a truck had hit him. It all came back when he went to rub his eyes and instead hit himself with his cast. He'd left school early, worn out and wishing he could forget the past few days–especially this morning's conversation with Mackenzie. He'd showered with the door partially open and a towel draped over his left arm; and he'd learned that washing hair with one hand was hard. He didn't attempt to shave; and he'd been too tired to eat. Instead he'd changed into comfortable clothes and had crashed on the couch, his hair still damp.

He sat up with his arm throbbing and his stomach growling. He hadn't eaten much since Sunday night. He ran the fingers of his good hand through his hair and put on the sling he'd been given at the hospital but hadn't worn until now. He walked into the kitchen and surveyed the meager contents of his refrigerator. He'd forgotten to hit the grocery store last weekend. He opened the pantry and found some crackers and a can of soup. He'd have to make do because he wasn't going anywhere tonight; and he just didn't feel like bothering with, or waiting for, take-out. He took some Tylenol and was about to open the can of soup when the doorbell rang.

Rod opened the door with his broken arm in the sling and the can of soup in his uninjured hand. Despite the size of his hand, he'd fumbled with the doorknob and the can of soup to get the thing opened. He was shocked to see Mackenzie there. To him, she looked like a Super Model, fresh out of the pages of a fashion magazine. All he could do was stare.

Mac wasn't faring any better in finding her words. For the first time today, she actually looked at him. He was wearing long basketball shorts, and a sleeveless T-shirt with "Yale Baseball" written across the front. His hair was messy and sticking up in the back. His face was still unshaven and his feet were bare. His left arm was in a cast past his elbow. He looked worn out. And she realized that in spite of everything, she wanted him in her life.

Finally, Rod spoke first. "Hey..."

"Hey... Can I come in?" Mac asked meekly, though he didn't appear to be angry.

"Yeah... sorry. Of course, you can come in." Rod stepped aside and let Mackenzie walk past him, relieved that she no longer seemed to be upset with him.

As she walked into the living room, she looked around, still holding her purse and the bags of food. Though she'd been here many times, she'd never really assessed the place. This wasn't a typical student accommodation. It was far nicer; and it must have taken a fair amount of money to furnish. Moreover, while Rod was extroverted and out-going, he chose to live alone. And while he seemed very open, there was still a great deal about him that was a total mystery to her. Had she just not been looking? Or was his true essence hidden from view?

Rod joined her in the middle of the room, still holding the can of soup.

Again all they could do was stare at each other. It wasn't awkward, just intense. As if each of them recognized the overwhelming need to talk and to touch, and yet neither of them was certain about what to say or how to make the first move.

This time Mac spoke first. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine–although I must look lousy. Just a basketball thing. No big deal."

"I hope I'm not disturbing you. Have you had something to eat? Are you hungry?"

"Yes... I mean, no." Flustered, he stopped speaking and smiled at her. There was so much he wanted to say. He wasn't sure where to begin. Mostly though, he was glad she was here. "Let me start again. No, you are not disturbing me. No, I haven't had something to eat. And yes, I am hungry." He held up the can of soup. "I was just going to make this."

"I brought food. If you'd rather have soup, I can put it in the refrigerator for later."

"No. I'd love something else. The soup was the only thing I could find in the kitchen that seemed good. I forgot to go to the store over the weekend."

Mac bristled internally at his mention of the weekend.

Rod saw the look in her eyes change–become withdrawn. What about his words would have caused this reaction? Reaching out to her, he said with a grin, "I'm an idiot. Here you bring me dinner and I don't even offer to take the bags from you." Of course, after the words were out of his mouth, he realized that he didn't have a free hand. Embarrassed by his predicament, he reached over and set the can of soup on the table. He reached for the bags but was stopped by Mackenzie.

She touched his arm and said lightly, "It's okay. I've got them. Where do you want to eat?"

"Our usual place?" He gestured towards the table in front of the couch. He had a nice table in the kitchen and yet somehow they always ended up eating here on the floor.

"Perfect." She put the bags down on the table and deposited her purse on a chair.

"If you give me five minutes, I'll comb my hair and change into some real clothes–although I'm afraid shaving is out of the question until I figure out how to do it right-handed without cutting my face." He paused and tried to smooth the back of his hair with his fingers. "I fell asleep this afternoon after I showered," he told her sheepishly, "and had just woke up before you came." He turned and began to walk in the direction of his bedroom.

"Rod... wait."

He stopped and turned around to see her looking at him with amusement gleaming in her eyes.

"You don't need to change. I mean... it's just the two of us." Truthfully, she loved seeing him like this: bare feet and calves, bare arms and shoulders, tight T-shirt, a little disheveled... and very sexy.

"You sure?"

"Oh yeah..." She was relieved to see that the end result of her suggestive tone was a real cocky grin.

"You win," he said walking back towards her. "Why don't you sit down and I'll get the plates and stuff from the kitchen, although I don't know what there is to drink."

Looking at his arm in the sling, she raised an eyebrow at his suggestion. "Why don't I help. I don't think you're going to be able to carry much with one hand."

Laughing at the logic in her response, he said, "You got me there. Come on, let's get what we need because I'm starved and whatever you've got in those bags smells good."

While she grabbed the plates and utensils, Rod again looked in the refrigerator. "It looks like orange juice or water tonight." He tilted his head in her direction with a questioning eyebrow of his own.

"Orange juice is fine."

By the time she'd returned from depositing her stuff, he'd poured them each a big glass of juice. She carried the glasses into the living room. He was going to put the orange juice back in the refrigerator but changed his mind and brought it into the living room, too.

"I wasn't sure what you'd be hungry for, so I brought Italian and Chinese." Mac had emptied the contents of the bags onto the table. Well, everything except for the chocolate cheesecake. She was saving that as a surprise.

"Wow..." he said, surveying all the food on the table and thinking that even when it came to take-out, she was an overachiever. "I'm impressed: lasagna, fettucini alfredo, beef & broccoli, chow mein, egg rolls, moo shoo pork and sweet & sour..."

"Chicken," she finished for him as she handed him a plate.

He took it from her and used her nearness as the perfect opportunity to gently wrap his good hand around the back of her shoulders and pull her towards him for a kiss. He meant for it to be quick and playful. Once he tasted her lips–her mouth, a more savage hunger took over and they ended up pushed up against the couch with him virtually on top of her. Six days had seemed like an eternity without her touch. Fortunately the pain in his broken arm brought him back to his senses. He winced and pulled away.

His first rational thought was to apologize. After the last week and particularly this morning, he didn't exactly know where things stood between them; and having his hard cast between them must have been painful for her, too. He was angry with himself for losing control. "Mackenzie, I'm sorry... I couldn't help myself. But I didn't mean to take it... well, so far. It was meant to be an appetizer. You know, a quick kiss."

She could see his discomfort and his concern for her. Again taking her place next to him on the floor, she gave him a real smile, and said, "Rod, it's okay... I've missed you, too."

"I'm glad."

Reading the intense hunger still present in his gaze, she was overwhelmed. Changing the subject, she again handed him a plate, and said, "Eat your dinner."

She took a drink of juice and watched him completely fill his plate. "You are hungry. Did you save a little for me?" she teased.

"Yeah," he said looking over the food that was still in the containers, "I think there might be a little left for you. But you'd better hurry because I haven't eaten much the past couple of days and I might want seconds."

She grabbed her plate and was surprised to find that she, too, was hungry. As she filled her plate, she noticed that he wasn't eating. "You're not eating. What's wrong?"

"Just waiting for you."

"Thank you." _Always a gentleman_, she thought as she finished filling her own plate and they both began to eat. After a few minutes of silence, she finally found the courage to bring up what had happened that morning. She put down her fork. "Rod..."

Hearing the soberness in her voice, he too, put his fork down, leaned back against the couch, and looked her in the eye.

"About this morning, I..." _Oh boy_, she realized, _this isn't as easy as I thought it would be_. _How_, she wondered, _do I tell him I didn't know his arm was broken until late this afternoon because I wasn't looking at him this morning._

Rod saw the internal conflict warring in her eyes. "Mac, it's okay. I understand. I was the one at fault."

Mac didn't know how her mistake could be his fault but she appreciated the sentiment. "We didn't get a chance to talk. I didn't even thank you for the roses."

"Do you like them?" he asked hopefully.

She smiled. "You know I do."

He shrugged. "Then there's nothing more to say."

"Thank you." She joined him against the couch. "Can we talk now?"

"About anything," he assured her. He reached out and pushed a stray hair behind her ear.

"What happened to your arm?"

"A collision on the basketball court Monday morning. I got undercut going to the hoop." He shrugged. "It happens sometimes." In truth, he wasn't exactly sure why it'd happened although he had his suspicions.

She nodded. "Does it... wait a minute. This happened Monday and I only learned about it today?" She was incredulous.

"I tried to call you... I left you a message."

"Rod, you didn't tell me you broke your arm. And what happened Friday? Why didn't you call me back?"

"It didn't sound like you wanted me to. All you said was that you'd be studying in the library. It didn't sound like you wanted me to join you. And then you didn't return my calls on Sunday." Rod felt like he was a walking a tight rope. "Mackenzie, about lunch on Thursday. You do know that Cooper was being... well, Cooper, don't you?"

"Yeah. I don't care about that. What I do care about is where have you been since Monday? Why didn't you call me or stop by?"

"I was in the hospital until this morning. I didn't even make it to class. I left the hospital, picked up the roses and came straight to see you."

She was taken back. Her demeanor instantly changed with this revelation. She spoke more softly. "Rod, you don't spend three days in the hospital for a simple broken arm. What happened? Are you really okay?"

Giving her a little smile, he reached out and again ran his fingers through her hair. "Yeah, I am now. After seeing the X-ray, the doctors decided to do surgery and insert a little screw into the bone to help it heal quicker and straighter. The surgery went fine. I just had an allergic reaction to a couple of the drugs they gave me and it caused a little respiratory problem. It was no big deal."

She removed his hand from her hair. "The why didn't you call me? Didn't you want me to know? A message saying 'something has come up' doesn't cut it, Rod. Didn't you think I'd want to know?"

He breathed deeply, recognizing yet again how complicated women are. "You're right. I'm sorry. When I left the message for you Monday morning, I was waiting in radiology. I didn't want to upset you over such a little thing. I didn't know they were going to do surgery."

"Why didn't you call me after the surgery?" His lack of communication troubled her.

"Mac, I couldn't. I don't remember much from the time I went in for surgery until very late last night."

"Were your parents with you?"

"No, they're in Africa. They always take a vacation this time of year."

"What about your grandmother?"

"She's watching the kids. I didn't want to upset them. She was in constant contact with the doctors. I talked to her Monday night. I just don't remember it. By then, I was stable–just totally out of it."

"Stable? What do you mean stable? Rod, that doesn't sound like a little problem. That's something major."

Again he got a sheepish look on his face. "Apparently I stopped breathing and had to be on oxygen for a while. They put me in critical care." He saw the look of shock on her face. "It was only as a precaution. It sounds worse than it was. I'm okay."

She relaxed a little. He did seem okay. If his parents and grandmother hadn't been with him, who had? She hoped it wasn't the girl she'd seen with him on Saturday night. "Who was with you?"

He was confused. "When?"

She shook her head. "At the hospital," she almost shouted. "What did you think I was asking?"

"I don't know... that's why I asked."

"Rod..." Men could be so maddeningly dense sometimes.

"I'm sorry," he told her with slight exasperation. "Nobody was with me."

She felt like she'd been slapped in the face. Now she was really angry. "Do you mean to tell me that you had surgery and spent almost two days in critical care and you were all alone?" She glared at him.

He could see she was really worked up now.

"You have a girlfriend–someone who really cares about you. Someone you claim is important to you. And yet you don't think to call her–or have someone else call her–to tell her you're in the hospital and that you almost died? Rod, what does that say for the strength of our relationship? Didn't you want me with you? Didn't you need me with you?" Her voice was shaky and she was on the verge of tears, which further heightened her anger. She hated emotional displays—particularly in herself.

He studied her closely and discovered that behind the anger and the aggression was fear and he hoped, love. He'd never seen her display any real hint of vulnerability before. He moved closer to her. "Come here." He held out his right arm. She moved into his embrace and he held her tightly. He could feel her shudder and hear her sob. Holding her like this, he began to feel the effects and emotions of the past few days physically catch up with him; and his arm was beginning to again ache. Pushing those thoughts aside, he concentrated only on her and what she needed from him.

Eventually he felt her calm down. Still holding her tight, he told her softly, "Honey, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. You're right. I screwed this up. Of course, I wanted you with me. My only excuse is that I was totally out of it. My grandmother came to see me Tuesday morning and I don't remember anything about the conversation. Will you forgive me?"

She sat up and looked at him, trying to process all he had said.

He smiled weakly and brushed away her tears with a gentle touch.

She could see that he was both exhausted and in pain. She was embarrassed by her reaction. He'd been released from the hospital only that morning and she'd been nagging him like a fishwife. She reached out to him and began to lightly massage the back of his neck. "There's nothing to forgive. I'm sorry for freaking out on you. It's really not a big deal. I'm just relieved you're alive and okay."

"Mackenzie, it is a big deal. Communication is incredibly important in a relationship. And I did a lousy job of it."

Thinking on her own conduct the past several days, she told him, "You're not the only one who made mistakes here. I think that both of us could do a much better job of it."

"Yeah..."

"You look tired. I won't stay any longer. You need to sleep." She stood up and started to clear away their dishes, until he grabbed one of her hands.

He, too, stood up. "Don't go. Stay with me..."

What was he asking her? What about his arm? What about the girl at the movie whom she still didn't have a clue about?

Rod smiled knowingly at her unspoken reaction. "I'm not talking about sex, Mac."

"You're not?" she was surprised.

"No."

"Don't you want to have sex with me?"

"Night and day. Just not tonight." He held up his broken arm. "With this, I can't give you what I want you to have—what you deserve from the first time we make love." _And_, he thought, _I want you to be unafraid_. Something must have happened to her in the past because she was terrified of real intimacy.

She sighed, uncertain of what to say or how to explain to him both the sense of relief and disappointment she felt with his words.

He took a step closer to her. Taking one of her hands, he raised it to his lips. "Stay with me. I don't want to be alone right now. I just need to know you're near."

She touched his face and felt the heavy stubble that now covered the area around his mouth, his cheeks, and part of his neck. "I'll stay... but only if you rest."

"Deal."

Suddenly another idea occurred to her. "Do you want me to give you a shave?"

"Would you?" He felt his face. "It itches like crazy."

"You trust me?"

He nodded, unable to tell her how much he trusted her and how much he wanted her. He led her into his bathroom. While he sat on the counter, she slowly and carefully gave him the most loving–most erotic–experience of his life... so far.

When she finished, she gently dried his face and softly applied his aftershave lotion. Then she kissed his lips, his face, and his neck. Afterwards she looked in his eyes. There she saw passion and tenderness. She also saw a weariness that was the result of the physical trauma he'd suffered the past few days. "Brush your teeth and get in bed while I clean up."

"Yes, ma'am." He kissed her softly. "Just don't be long."

XXXXXXXXXX

When she returned to his bedroom, he was in bed with his eyes closed. She thought he was asleep. She bent down, brushed his hair aside and kissed his forehead.

"Don't go." He opened his eyes and patted the other side of the bed. "Stay with me a little longer."

"Okay." She'd gone to the car after cleaning up and had grabbed her Wills & Trusts book figuring she'd read a little until he fell asleep. She took off her shoes, propped up the pillows on the left side of his big bed, and climbed in next to him.

He rolled over to look at her. _She is so beautiful, so incredible_, he thought. He'd never been more tired yet felt more fulfilled in his life. And without a doubt what he wanted more than anything else was for the two of them to be together like this forever.

Once she was settled on the bed with her book on her lap, she looked over at Rod and found him sleepily watching her, a big smile on his face. She smiled back. They continued to look at each other until she saw that he could barely keep his eyes open. "Go to sleep. I'll still be here when you wake up." She turned her attention to her textbook. However, a short time later she felt him take one of her hands. She looked at him again and heard him say, "I love you."


	17. O Jerusalem

**17. O Jerusalem**

Mac felt like she couldn't breathe. She had to look away. Had he really said what she'd heard? She looked back at him wondering if he'd say anything else... and then she panicked over what to tell him in response.

Rod knew from her sharp intake of breath and her need to momentarily look away that he had shocked her. As she looked back, he watched as her expression changed from excitement... to panic... and then to something deep and uncertain–something painful. He wondered what could have caused such grief?

He recognized the importance of the moment. And though he wasn't entirely sure he'd made the right decision, the simple truth was he could no longer keep these feelings internalized. He had to share them with her. He could hardly keep his eyes open any longer. But he couldn't give in without first providing her with some assurance... a quiet attempt at answering the wrenching questions that dominated her brow. He gave the hand he held a little squeeze while lightly brushing his thumb across the top of her knuckles. He nodded slightly, a gentle smile on his lips. He hoped she could read in his eyes the love he felt for her. And when he saw a hint of a smile and a brief modicum of contentment on her face, he closed his eyes and let sleep come.

Hearing his words, feeling the intensity of his gaze, and the gentle pressure of his hand holding her own, Mackenzie was both happy and overwhelmed. Was it possible his words were really true? He's so exhausted, she thought. Would he remember saying the words in the morning? Or had he been in some state of semi-consciousness, someplace between here and dreamland, and would therefore, remember nothing? How exactly did she find out? She couldn't just come out and ask him, could she?

Mac put her book down on the bed side table. Then, still holding his hand, she lay on her side and looked at him once more... just watched him sleep. He looked like a little boy who hadn't a care in the world, she realized. How did he find such contentment? such certainty? such confidence?

And how did she really feel about his declaration? One thing was certain: the evening definitely hadn't gone as expected. She'd come here to make sure he was okay, hoping to explain her behavior this morning and secretly wanting to find about the girl from Saturday night. She hadn't anticipated just how much he'd been through the past few days. And just how deeply that knowledge would affect her.

Being with him tonight, she wanted to believe that the girl at the movies was of no real consequence to their relationship. She couldn't be... not with the way he held her and kissed her. Not with the need she saw burning in his eyes. But she couldn't be sure... and that was the real problem. She'd been here before... before with David.

_Jerusalem, January of 1991_

_Mac had just arrived in Jerusalem yesterday. It felt strange to be in the place she'd read about and dreamed about since her Freshman year at Brown when she'd read "O Jerusalem" as part of an honors seminar. She was anxious to truly experience this old city. A place that was so central to both the ancient and modern worlds... and so pivotal in terms of religion. Islam, Judaism, Christianity... it didn't matter. All came together and apart in Jerusalem. _

_She'd settled into her dorm room at Hebrew University on Mount Scopus, unpacked and was walking to the bookstore to buy her Hebrew books. She would be starting the Master's program in Middle Eastern Studies here in the Fall. But before that she had to become proficient in the Hebrew language and learn some Arabic, if possible. So she'd graduated from Brown a semester early and had come here to begin intensive language classes. This part of her education wasn't to help her professionally... for that she'd be attending law school a little more than eighteen months from now. No, this was just for her personally. She was tired but felt exhilarated._

_She arrived at the book store and was grateful to find enough people who spoke English sufficiently to aid her in her quest. With assistance, she found the appropriate shelf and reached to take what she saw was the last available textbook. However, at the same time another hand was seeking the same result and neither of them got very far._

"_Excuse me," he said with a gentle laugh, as he let go of the book. "It seems there's two of us and only one book. Do you have any suggestions as to how we could solve this difficulty amicably... or must we resort to a duel?"_

_Mackenzie smiled and noted his very proper British accent. She had to resist the urge to mimic his tone. "Well, I suppose we could flip a coin, draw straws... or whatever it is you do in England?"_

"_Or Yank... we could simply share this one until another arrives." He stuck out his hand. "Hi, I'm David Cavannaugh."_

_She grasped his hand and met his gaze. "Mackenzie Allen." He was exactly her height, with light brown hair, green eyes and a tanned complexion that seemed a poor fit for his accent and her stereotypical view of the British as pasty white._

"_Well... how about it. Would you care to discuss the matter over dinner?"_

"_I guess... I mean, sure. But maybe one of us should order another book first?"_

"_I'll do that..." And then taking the book gently from her hands, he added, "I'll just pay for this while I'm at it."_

"_David..."_

"_Mackenzie... I will be using it as much as you–at least until the other book arrives. I insist on paying for it. It's useless to argue with me... I'm a very stubborn fellow." _

"_At least let me buy you dinner?"_

"_We can discuss that at dinner."_

_Reluctantly, she agreed. _

_Well, they had dinner that night... and the next night... and the ones after that. In between, they went to class together and studied together–often at his apartment. And they explored Jerusalem together, all the while practicing Hebrew and picking up a little Arabic. They spoke to as many people as possible trying to really get a feel for the place–Jew, Arab and Christian alike. But in their wanderings they always remained vigilant of the volcano of violence which could erupt at any time with very little notice._

_His tan, she soon learned was the result of six weeks spent in Barbados at one of his family's homes. David had graduated from Oxford University and he, too, would be getting a Master's degree in Middle Eastern Studies. Unlike for her, however, this part of his education was work, preparatory to him entering Her Majesty's Foreign Service–a family tradition. His great grandfather had even been the Viceroy to India for a short period of time. His father was an Earl and his older brother a Viscount._

_Mac thought he was way out of her league. But he was insistent about them being together. His intelligence, combined with his dry but incredibly sharp wit, proved irresistible to her and soon broke down any defenses. And for the first time in her life, she fell hopelessly in love. While their weekdays were limited to Jerusalem, their weekends were spent in his convertible exploring the country from Haifa to Galilee._

_One night–three months into their relationship–she lost her virginity on the shore of the Sea of Galilee, under the light of a full moon, and after they'd each confessed their love. For her, sex–that joining together of two bodies and souls–had always been a sacred thing and something she'd never taken lightly. But she gave herself to him because she was convinced he was the one she was destined to be with forever._

_After that night, they practically lived together, although she was firm about maintaining her own separate (albeit dorm) residence. It just didn't feel right for her to actually live with a man before marriage. But that didn't stop them from being together almost night and day, enjoying each other's mind and body._

_Eight weeks later they were to part from each other for the Summer break. He to return home to attend to some family business. She to backpack through Europe with a couple of girlfriends from Brown in celebration of their graduation. The night before he left, however, they talked about their future. He told her he wanted them to be married. She readily agreed. He said they would make it official when they returned to Jerusalem. It was the happiest moment of her life. She knew that her life plans would have to be altered... that law school was now out of the question and that she'd have to make England–or wherever else in the world he was assigned--her home. But she didn't care because she loved him and wanted only to be with him._

_Six weeks later, she returned to Jerusalem the day before he did. Having a key to his apartment, she decided to surprise him with a romantic dinner for two. But she was the one who was surprised. She was waiting for him near the door when she heard the turn of his key. She was so very excited. Six weeks had never seemed so long, or Europe so uninteresting. When he came in, she rushed to him and threw her arms around his neck. However, she quickly discovered as he held her at arm's length, that he wasn't alone._

_She stepped back, dazed and confused. "David... what's going on?"_

"_Mac, I didn't expect to find you here." He looked around and saw the intimate table setting. "And I see you've surprised us with dinner. I'd like to introduce you to my wife, Allison." He turned towards the other woman. "Darling, this is Mackenzie Allen, a good friend and fellow Master's student."_

_A very petite and beautiful Allison stepped forward and grasped her hand. "It's a great pleasure to meet you. I'm sure we'll be seeing much more of each other."_

_Mac was stunned, her brain refusing to process what she'd just been told. "You're married? When? I mean... you didn't say anything, we were pla..."_

_David interrupted. "Darling, let me show you to our room. And you can get settled while Mac and I catch up." He didn't wait for a response but simple led Allison away._

_Mac just stood there, unable to run, unable to cry, unable to do anything except feel the pain of her heart splitting wide open. When David returned, he tried to get her to join him on the couch, but she just pushed him away._

"_Mac, I'm sorry. I've known Allison all my life. We were teenage sweethearts. And well, when I got home and we got reacquainted... well, we realized that we were meant to be together."_

"_I don't understand, David. How can you... We were together for months. You proposed marriage. You never said anything... not once–even when we talked these past weeks. How could you..." _

"_I'm sorry. But you and I are just too different... where we come from, our families, our backgrounds... our expectations."_

_Still not really wanting to hear what he had said, she protested, "Then I'll change. I love you and know you love me. I'm ready to do whatever it takes..."_

_David moved towards her and briefly placed hand on her chin, forcing her to look at him. "I'm sorry, Mac. But this is the way it has to be."_

_Finally, his words got through. She nodded, still too stunned to do anything else–like slap him. Then she turned and walked away. But forgetting about him hadn't been all that easy as she still had to work and study in close proximity to him... pretending she wasn't hurt or surprised by his sudden marriage to someone else, evading the questions and ignoring the looks of pity she received from classmates who'd seen them inseparably together for six months. So she had thrown herself into her studies, into the language, into learning all she could about the subject and the people... and she had learned how to wall off the pain. _

However, tonight--more than three years later, thinking about him brought all of the pain and loneliness rushing back into her mind and her heart. But how could she not think about him? How could she separate the past from the present? Separate Rod from David when the similarities were undeniable? Rod... Mac realized that though she'd never stopped looking at him, never stopped gripping his hand, she'd been so caught up in her memories that she'd forgotten he was there, laying next to her on his bed. She promised she'd be here for him. She wanted to be here with him. But she didn't want him to see her like this... falling apart. She watched him, trying to judge the depth of his slumber. And when she was convinced that he was truly asleep, she let go of his hand, turned away from him and wept openly.

A few hours later Rod was awakened by the ache in his left arm. He looked to his right and was relieved to find Mackenzie asleep next to him, on top of the covers with the light still on. However, she was turned away from him, clinging to the opposite edge. He got out of bed, took a couple of Tylenol and found a blanket in his closet. Gently he covered her. And he noticed the dry tear stains on her cheeks, the mascara that had run, and how tightly she clutched a pillow to her chest as if it were a life preserver. This, he knew, was an unbelievably strong, and often stubborn, woman... an utterly amazing and fascinating woman. The recognition that something or someone had in the past wounded her so deeply physically hurt him. He brushed away the hair that had fallen over her face and fell even deeper in love. He gently kissed her before turning off the light.

He climbed back in bed and moved closer to her. He wanted so bad to hold her to him tightly and never let her go until he had filled every hurt with love, every sorrow with joy. But with the way she lay, his cast made it impossible. Needing to touch her any way he could, Rod turned over on his right side, and resting his broken arm on his hip, he reached out and placed his other hand against the curve of her shoulder. Within seconds, he was again fast asleep.


	18. Now and Later

**18. Now and Later**

Mac awakened to morning light pouring in from the window. She had no idea what time it was or when she had finally drifted off to sleep. But it had been very late. She felt Rod's hand cupping her shoulder towards the base of her neck. He must have awakened at some point during the night and covered her with a blanket. Careful not to wake him, she headed for his bathroom and looked in the mirror. _Ouch!_ She looked as hung-over as she'd accused him of being yesterday morning. Truthfully, she didn't feel much better. Her mascara was everywhere and her cheeks were still streaked. She grabbed a tissue and hoped that he hadn't noticed anything. She hated to have him see her this way. She looked at her watch: 7:15 a.m. For her, that constituted sleeping in.

She made a quick decision. She'd hurry home to shower and change and then come back and make breakfast. Hopefully, he wouldn't wake up while she was gone. She'd promised she'd be here for him. It was a promise she wanted to keep. She was furious at herself for losing it like she had; and she was embarrassed about how she'd reacted. He'd confessed his love–at least she thought he had–if he remembered it. And she hadn't said anything because all she could think about was David. _Why did that happen? She was over that, she'd moved on... hadn't she?_

She looked in the kitchen and found nothing she could use to make breakfast. She'd have to go to the store, too. Quickly she found her lipstick in her purse and left him a message on the bathroom mirror: "Went to the store. Back soon. Stay in Bed." Then she located his car keys and took them with her so he couldn't leave and so she could let herself back in. She was tempted to take his car. Driving it was something she would like to experience. However, she resisted the temptation.

When she returned, she was grateful to find he was still asleep. It was now after 8:30 a.m. She took a moment to look around. She hadn't done that last night, which had been the first time she'd actually been in his bedroom. It, like the rest of the place, was furnished nicely with plenty of baseball memorabilia along with framed pictures. Photographs of Rod in his various baseball and basketball uniforms and a graduation photo with his parents. His dad was handsome and the two of them were almost identical in height and coloring. His mother, on the other hand, was petite, slender and blonde. She also saw a picture of him in London with an older woman, who had to be his grandmother. And there were photos of Rod and his siblings: a photo of him in the Mustang with all three of them; one as a teenager holding a blond Christopher on his shoulders; and another one from approximately the same time period of Sydney and Alexandra burying him in the sand at the beach. The twins, who must have been about ten, looked nothing alike–one was fair and the other dark.

She sat down on the bed next to him. After her sinus surgery she'd felt like a train had leveled her for more than a week. He had to be even more exhausted because of the medical complications—not to mention all the emotions of yesterday. He appeared to be totally gone. Sleeping with his mouth slightly open, he did look like a little boy: A very sexy, very thoughtful boy.

Last night, she'd come to ensure he was okay and to apologize. Instead she'd gone off on him. What had his response been? He hadn't yelled or been angry. He'd simply held her and comforted her, apologized and asked her to stay. And he'd said he loved her. If he'd intended that last part. She hoped he had–regardless of everything else and the other girl. She couldn't believe the girl was anyone. She couldn't be. So she wasn't going to think about her anymore. Not her. And not David.

Remembering the groceries were still sitting on the table, Mac headed into the kitchen. She was putting the last item in the refrigerator when the phone rang. Her first thought was to let it ring. However, she was afraid the noise would wake Rod.

"Hello."

"Hello. This is Rebecca Calloway, Roderic's grandmother. Is this Mackenzie?"

"Um... yes ma'am, it is. Rod's asleep but I could wake him... if you want me to." She was rambling. But she'd been caught off guard by the fact that his grandmother not only knew her name but that she apparently expected her to be there.

Rebecca was thrilled to finally get to speak to this young woman who had stolen her oldest grandson's heart. "How is my boy?"

"He seems okay, ma'am." She wasn't quite sure just what to say. "Why don't I go get him for you?"

"No. Let him sleep. He needs it." She hadn't called to speak with her grandson. She'd called hoping to talk to Mackenzie. "I don't need to tell you just how scared I was when I got the call from the hospital Monday evening. But Roderic wouldn't let me come, wouldn't let me leave the kids or tell them much of anything. I spent Tuesday with him while they were at school. I was so mad at him for not telling me about the surgery. I swear I actually wanted to take him over my knee and give it to him good. But he was so out of it I really couldn't say anything."

Mac was taken back by her choice of words. Mrs. Calloway didn't seem old at all. She seemed hip. No longer in a hurry to hang up, she relaxed and sat down at the table with the phone. "I understand how you feel. Only I didn't even know he'd broken his arm. All he told me was that 'something had come up.' I didn't learn anything at all until yesterday."

_So that's why she hadn't been at the hospital_, thought Rebecca. "I hope you gave him the business for that, young lady."

Mac chuckled. "Yes, ma'am, I'm afraid I did. But I feel kind of bad about it this morning. There he was fresh out of the hospital and I come and totally go off on him like some crazed lunatic."

Rebecca, too, laughed. "He can take it. Besides he deserved it." Her tone was dryly matter of fact. "I'm sure he understands why you did it. He's just like his grandfather and father. Always trying to protect the ones he loves, keep them from worrying,"

Mac wasn't sure whether his grandmother meant to include her in the category of "loved one" but somehow, despite all of the emotional turmoil of the past several days, it felt good. "Mrs. Calloway, what really happened after the surgery?"

"What did Roderic tell you?"

"Only that he'd had a reaction to some medication, stopped breathing temporarily and was put in critical care strictly as a precautionary measure."

_That figures_, Rebecca said to herself. "My understanding is that it was a little more involved. Basically he had to be revived. We're lucky he's still with us and that no permanent damage was done. He should, however, still be in the hospital. But he wouldn't listen to me, or the doctors. He wouldn't let me have someone bring him here or let me come there. He was insistent about getting back to you and school, telling me not to worry because he'd be in good hands. I'm relieved to see he is."

Her words cut Mac as she realized just how close she came to not being here–to not having the courage to come. She again felt guilty about the way she'd treated him at school yesterday morning. She was also touched and astounded by his trust and confidence in her—his firm belief that she would be there for him. With new resolve, she answered, "I'll be here for as long as he needs me."

"Good girl. Tell him I called and ask him to call the kids later. They need to hear from him that he's okay." Rebecca's initial impression of this young woman was that Roderic was right. She was special. She suddenly felt a burning desire to have lunch in New Haven sometime very soon.

"I will."

"And Mackenzie," Rebecca teased, "give him a kiss for me... but make it from you–if you know what I mean."

Mac felt herself blush. At least now she knew where he got his playful suggestiveness. "Mrs. Calloway, you are as bad as your grandson."

Rebecca laughed. "Where do you think he learned it? Although, actually it was his grandfather who was the true master of the tease."

"You must miss him." Rod had told her that his grandfather had died when he was a boy.

"I do."

Mac heard an audible sigh.

"Now, I've taken enough of your time. I leave Roderic in your capable hands. Don't let him overdo it–be firm."

"Yes ma'am... and thank you."

"Thank you, Mackenzie. Good-bye."

"Good-bye, ma'am."

After she hung up the phone, Mac sat down at the kitchen table for a few minutes. She still felt emotionally raw and exhausted. But the conversation with Rod's grandmother somehow made her feel better, too. She only wished she knew what to expect from him this morning: Would he angry or upset? Hurt or withdrawn? And what would he expect from her? She wasn't ready to say the words she knew he wanted to hear. She couldn't. Not yet. But she also didn't want to walk away or lose him. She wanted him in her life, wanted him to love her—truly love her. She loved how he made her feel. The question was could she trust that–trust him.

_Well_, she thought, _she'd deal with all of that later_. She looked at the clock and saw that it was a little past nine a.m. She should be in class... so should Rod. She rarely ever missed class. But today she would. Because after talking with Mrs. Calloway, she'd decided that school was simply not an option for either of them. He was going to rest and she was going to see that he did.

She finished doing the remaining dishes from last night and straightened up the living room. Then she began to make breakfast. It had been a long time since she'd had such a leisurely morning–and an even longer time since she'd cooked a real breakfast. Her mother would be shocked and proud, to see her in such a domestic state. He would be hungry and she wanted to surprise him with breakfast in bed. She cooked bacon, grated cheese, cut up mushrooms, green peppers and tomatoes. All the while her mind kept pulling her towards both the imperfect past and the uncertain future. She fought it, trying instead to focus only on the omelets and hash browns she was preparing. She kept telling herself: _Think only about today because Rod needs you._

Without warning, she felt an arm come around her waist and feather light kisses on her neck, which sent little shivers up her spine. Breathlessly, she greeted him, "Good morning to you, too."

He was nervous. They hadn't spoken since he'd said the words–words that had obviously brought back painful memories for her. She appeared to be okay, though. Maybe a little tease would help break the ice. "What a way to start the day. A sexy, beautiful woman standing at my stove, cooking with bare feet."

Fortunately, the omelets were done. Mac removed them from the heat before turning to him. "Happen to you often, champ?"

He grinned. "No, but I was anticipating the future."

"I suggest then that you check on Martha Stewart's availability," she responded dryly, and in response received his closed mouth smirk.

"Nah... I prefer the current model–much sexier."

Mac smiled at him with her eyes before she studied him, trying to gauge what he was really thinking, feeling behind his play. She couldn't read anything behind his words. But physically he still looked hammered. _Well, she'd take care of that, take care of him._ "Are you hungry?"

"Famished," he told her unequivocally before peaking around her towards the stove and suggesting, "and the food looks good, too."

Mac hit him on the chest. "You're incorrigible," she said with a laugh before turning back to the stove.

But he just turned her around again. And with his good arm, pulled her up against his body–cast and all. Then very slowly he lowered his head.

_His nearness, his touch feels so good_, she thought. She could still taste a hint of toothpaste on his lips. She hadn't experienced this since Jerusalem. Suddenly, she was confused again. She felt him begin to deepen the kiss, assert a gentle pressure on her lips as he sought access to her mouth. But emotionally she couldn't take it. Not right now. Not with the uncertainty she felt.

He sensed the change in her. He ended the kiss and held her away so he could see her face. "Honey, what is it? Did I do something wrong?"

_How_, she thought, _could she explain it to him when she didn't fully understand it_. "No," she answered definitively. "You did nothing wrong. It's just that I can't get over you being so sick and all alone. You scared me." She reached up and brushed some hair away from his forehead and discovered he was feverish. "You're hot and still look worn out. Go get back in bed and I'll bring you breakfast."

"Mackenzie, I'm..."

"Roderic, this is not something that's open for discussion." She pointed in the direction of his room. "Go get in bed."

For a moment, he felt like a little boy again being ordered upstairs by his grandmother. But he obeyed. "Roderic," he muttered out loud as he climbed back in bed, "since when does she call me 'Roderic.' I thought she hated that name."

When she came into the room with breakfast sitting on a big cookie sheet, he was in bed reading _Sports Ilustrated._ "You're not going to make me eat alone, are you?" he said with a little pout.

"No." She put the tray down in the middle of the bed and sat down herself.

He put the magazine down and saw the time. "It looks wonderful. But we'd better hurry. We've already missed our first classes."

"We're not going to class today."

"We're not?"

"No. You're going to stay in bed, and I'm going to make sure you do." She saw his eyebrow raise and knew he was about to make another very suggestive retort. She gave him a stern look and with a strong, no nonsense tone told him, "I'm serious. You've got a broken arm and you're running a fever. And you just got out of the hospital after having surgery with some major complications. You need rest. You need sleep. And I'm going to make sure you get it."

"But Mac," he protested, "I've missed class all week. I'm way behind as it is."

"Not buts. You're staying in bed today." Then softening both her look and her tone, she said, "But I'll help you catch up later. Okay?"

He shrugged. "What can a guy say when the prettiest, smartest woman in the world offers not only to baby-sit him and cook his meals but also to do his homework."

"Not do... help. Now, eat your breakfast before it gets cold."

"Yes ma'am."

But before either of them started eating they looked at each other and smiled.

When they were finished, he leaned back against his pillows and said, "Thank you, that was delicious. I haven't tasted anything this good in a very long time." He was beginning to feel a little tired.

She blushed. "It wasn't exactly gourmet but I'm glad you enjoyed it."

It pleased him that she still reacted like that to his compliments as well as sometimes to his teasing. But he thought that he'd taken enough advantage of her hospitality. "Mac, you really don't have to stay. It's not that I want you to go, I don't. Having you here last night and this morning... But I know you've got a lot on your plate–what with school and the journal."

"I'm staying... and that, Roderic, isn't open for discussion either."

"Okay, you win." He raised his right arm in mock surrender, but then very genuinely said in a much quieter voice, "Thank you."

Mac smiled at him and then moved the tray off the bed and onto the floor. She'd deal with the dishes later. She propped up the pillows on her side of the bed and with a big sigh, turned to face him. They still hadn't talked about last night.

Rod watched her. There wasn't a day with this woman that he wasn't glad that he'd received intelligence training in the Army. He needed all the help he could get in trying to figure her out. He knew something was on her mind--probably something about the previous night. He, too, sat up straighter and turned towards her. "What is it, Mac?"

She looked down at her hands before speaking. "I just feel awkward."

"About last night? Sleeping in the same bed?" His voice was kind.

"Yeah, that's part of it. I know it was innocent and everything, but I haven't shared a bed with a man in a very long time and well..."

Rod had seen in her eyes, and later with the tearstains, how deeply some guy had hurt her. He wanted to take the guy apart. "Do you want to tell me about that?"

"No." She shook her head. "Not yet."

"Okay," he nodded back. "But when you are ready I'll be here." His words, he noticed, didn't have the calming effect he'd hoped as her brow was still filled with worry. Very gently he questioned, "You said that was part of it, what else is bothering you?"

"Maybe we should talk about this later. You've got a fever... and you look really tired."

"Mackenzie..."

She saw the intensity in his eyes and heard a hint of warning in his voice. It was a tone she hadn't heard very often from him. One that said, _I know what you're trying to do, what you're trying to avoid, and it isn't going to work._ She looked at him, trying to fight off her embarrassment and searching to find the courage to speak. Finally she said, "Rod, you surprised me last night. You know, when you... well, when"

"When I said 'I love you?'"

"Yeah. I know you were sleepy and everything and that well, maybe..."

"Maybe I didn't mean to say it, mean the words?"

She nodded. "It's okay. I understand if you..." Unable to face him directly, she began to smooth out the wrinkles in the bedding.

"Mackenzie, look at me." Like last night, he reached out to her and laced his fingers through one of her hands.

She looked down at their intertwined hands and then at him.

"I knew exactly what I was saying. I meant it then and I mean it now."

Mac felt herself enveloped by the warmth from both his gaze and his words. And she was more concerned and embarrassed about her earlier silence. "Well then, are you upset with me?"

"Because you didn't say anything?" Instantly, he recognized what was on her mind, and that this conversation was only beginning. Last night, he'd briefly seen her soul: the joy and the hurt, the fear and the confusion. They had much to work through that would require taking small, incremental steps. But he was not going to let her go.

"Well, yeah."

"Do you want me to be upset?"

"Yes... I mean, no. I don't know.

He saw on her face how worked up she was over her previous reaction. It gave him renewed confidence that underneath it all, her feelings for him were strong.

"I just know that if I'd been in your shoes, I'd probably be angry or hurt or something."

He shook his head but didn't break eye contact. "I'm not."

"I don't understand. How can you not be upset by the way I treated you?"

"Because what I said wasn't about you–not directly anyways. It was about me... about my feelings, my desires. It wasn't a test, Mac, or some conditional statement. My feelings for you are not dependent upon your reaction to them, or what you may or may not feel for me right now in return. They just are."

_Could he really be that secure? That understanding? How is that even possible?_ "It didn't bother you at all that I said nothing, made no acknowledgment when you'd just confessed your love?"

He chuckled to himself. She may not have made any verbal response, but her eyes had told him a great deal–much of which she wasn't ready to address. However, what he saw also gave him confidence in the depth of her feelings for him. "Would I be happier if you felt the same way? Yeah. Do I hope beyond hope that soon you will? Absolutely."

He could see she was still taken back, confused and not sure just how to take his words. "Let me ask you this. Do you want to be here with me? Want to keep having and working on our relationship?"

"Very much." Her voice was quiet but laced with raw emotion.

"Then that's all I need–for now. I've told you before, this isn't a race. I can be a patient man when there's something I want. But what I don't want is for you to say the words because you think it's what I'm expecting to hear. Or worse, because you're afraid of losing me if you don't. Love has to be given freely or it's not love. I only want you to say the words when you feel powerless to stop yourself from saying them."

She was stunned. "I just can't believe that you could be so understanding, so patient. I mean, you're a man." She stopped, a new (yet recurring) concern entering her mind. _Maybe he was patient because he..._ "Is it sex? Most guys wouldn't wait like... Rod, don't you want to have sex with me?"

Rod had to laugh at the absurdity of her suggestion. If she only knew how much he wanted her. For a moment he was tempted to prove her wrong, make his actions speak far louder than his words. "Mac, I'm not 'most guys.' I'm the man who loves you–the man who wants you to be happy. And as for wanting you... you have no idea how much, or for how long. But what I want is to make love to you and make love with you. That's a whole different thing. Are you telling me you're ready for that? Ready for that kind of commitment?"

"No." She felt guilty about making that admission. She didn't want him to think she wasn't attracted to him, because that wasn't it. She just wasn't—not with what happened before.

He moved closer to her and gently caressed the hand he held. "Honey, don't worry so much. It will happen when we're ready. But never believe that I don't want you, I do. And that's not going to change. Okay?"

She nodded her head, hoping he really meant what he was saying.

"And in the mean time, I'll continue to work out hard and take lots of cold showers." He gave her a look of mock frustration and finally got a smile in return. But he also saw fatigue–both physical and emotional. "Come here, you look as tired as I feel. I'm not the only one it seems who could use a nap."

"Is this a good idea?" she asked moving closer to him.

"The best."

Once she was settled in the crook of his good arm with her head pillowed on his chest above his cast, he asked her, "Do you want to tell me how it is that I suddenly became 'Roderic' this morning?"

She strained her neck to look up at him. "I did call you that, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did. Do you want to tell me about it?" Running his fingers through her hair, he looked down at her with his head cocked.

"Well, your grandmother called while you were sleeping."

"Ah... that explains it. She has always insisted on calling me that... only when I'm in trouble with _her_ she has a tendency to use my full name–sometimes even adding 'Mister' to it. I can still hear her from when I was a little boy: _'Mister Roderic Gabriel Calloway, you stop that right now and get in here.'_"

Mac chuckled. She'd only spoken to the woman a total of five minutes yet she could hear her calling him just that. "She seems amazing, both warm and intimidating at the same time."

"That's her all right. So what did she have to say?"

"She was checking up on you–making sure you're okay. I think she was checking me out, too. Making sure that her 'boy' is in good hands."

"The best."

With a twinkle in her eyes she added, "And she told me to give you a kiss for her... only to make it from me."

Rod raised an eyebrow. "She did?"

"Yeah. So do you want it now _or_ later?"

"How about now _and_ later?" He felt her body contract as he slid his hand under her shirt and he began to caress her back.

Mac felt her body respond to his touch and a warmth settled over her as she saw the drowsy-eyed, hungry look which accompanied that touch. "Roderic." Her voice was almost a whisper, nearly a plea.

She moved higher on his chest, and mindful of his broken arm, reached up and kissed him. It never ceased to amaze her how exciting just kissing him could be. It was hot and deep and passionate–as if they were making up for lost time, which in a way they were.

When she finally broke the kiss, they were both flushed and breathing hard. And they were both exhausted. She again put her head on his wide chest–close to his heart. Almost instantly she felt his hand again begin to rub her back.

Within minutes, however, they were both asleep.


	19. Friend and Foe Alike

**Author's Note: **The title of this chapter is taken from John F. Kennedy's Inaugural Address delivered on January 20, 1961.**  
**

**19. Friend and Foe Alike**

Cooper walked into Mackenzie's journal office at the law school late Thursday afternoon so he could pick up her books and computer. She'd called Carl and had told him about Rod's injury on the basketball court and his subsequent stay in the hospital. And she'd asked him to do a few things for her because she didn't want to leave Rod because his fever had spiked. He'd been with Carl at the time, so, of course, he'd offered to help.

As he was gathering up the stuff, Mike walked in.

"What are you doing?" he questioned, moving towards Mac's desk.

Cooper looked up. "Hey, Mike. Mac asked me to pick up some school stuff and bring it to her. But I can't find her tax book. Have you seen it?"

"Where is she? Is she okay?" She'd never been out of touch and away from the law school like this before. "I haven't seen her since yesterday. And she's not answering her phone."

"She's fine. She's with Rod. He's pretty sick." Cooper continued to look for the elusive book.

"What?" Mike was absolutely incredulous. "You're kidding me, right?"

Cooper ceased his search and faced Mike. "Where else would she be? He just got out of the hospital yesterday and he's sick."

Mike could care less about what was happening with Rod. All he cared about was Mac. "I can't believe it. She's still with that two-timing jerk? What's she thinking? How on earth after Saturday night can she even stand to look at the bastard?"

Cooper was baffled by Mike's words and his obvious anger. He was biased against Rod, but this seemed almost irrational. "What are you talking about, Mike?"

"Mac and I went to a movie Saturday night," he responded with his voice laced with disgust. "And Rod was there with his arms draped all over another girl. They looked real cozy, the two of them." He shook his head in disbelief, not wanting to believe what Cooper had told him about her still being with the guy.

"Who was she?" Cooper knew how Rod and Mackenzie were with each other; and he knew how Rod felt about her. There had to be more to this situation than what Mike described. "Did you guys go talk to him, find out who she is?"

"Of course, not. Are you crazy? Think what that would do to Mac."

"Mike, what does not knowing do for her?" Cooper's tone was calm, quiet and serious. "And how do you know there was anything to it if you didn't bother to ask or find out?"

"That's crap, Cooper... and you know it. We saw them with our own eyes. What else is there? You know Calloway better than I do. You know what he's like. How can you sit here and defend him when Mac is getting hurt?"

"Mike, come on, you can't really believe... " Cooper shook his head, straining to maintain control over his own temper.

"You're a fool," Mike said pointing his finger at his friend. "I don't understand the hold he has on you. Is it because he has more money than you? Or because his family is more powerful than yours? What is it with you high society types that makes you so tight? Makes you believe you can do whatever you like to whomever you like?"

Cooper clinched his fist and took a deep breath. He knew better than to try and reason with Mike when he was so worked up. "Whatever, man. I'm not going to argue with you. You wouldn't listen anyway," Cooper told him, his own voice increasing in volume. "But for what it's worth, I think you're wrong. I think you totally misjudged the situation." Unable to fully contain himself, he raised a finger in the direction of his friend. "You're letting your own prejudices towards Rod blind you to the truth. Rod and Mac love each other, and they're good for each other. Let it go. My God, it's been years."

"Don't delude yourself. Do you really think the guy's changed and actually cares about her? She's not his type." Mike snorted. "You're the one wearing blinders."

Cooper raised his arms in a gesture of surrender. "I'm done here, Mike. Just don't put me in the middle of your little feud." Cooper stared at him trying to remain calm. He was becoming increasingly difficult to be around, which was unfortunate because Coop knew him to be basically a decent guy, a good and loyal friend for many years. He obviously cared for Mac, maybe even as more than a friend. Cooper just didn't know which was greater: his feelings for Mackenzie or his hatred and loathing of Rod.

Mike shook his head in anger. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, man. Just don't tell me how much you care about Mac–how she's like a sister to you, and then stand by and watch her get hurt." He again pointed a finger at Cooper. "And don't expect me to do the same. You may not have her back, but I do. He won't get away with it. I promise you that," he said with a red face and an icy stare before turning around and walking away.

Cooper watched Mike storm out of the office, angrily hitting the wall as he left. He stared at the door for a few minutes wondering what that scene had really been about. And then another question entered Cooper's mind: _What exactly had occurred on the basketball court last Monday morning that had caused Rod to fall hard enough to break his arm?_ He was afraid that he wouldn't like the answer. _Maybe_, he thought for a moment, _it would be better simply to remain in the dark. This might be one occasion when ignorance might really be bliss_. However, he'd never be able to leave it alone. He had to know the truth.

He looked at his watch. He was supposed to be at Rod's place twenty minutes ago. He hurriedly scoured Mac's desk and the surrounding area until he finally located her tax book. Then gathering up her stuff, he left.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Sometime later, Cooper returned to Rod's place for the second time with dinner for he and Mac. Earlier he'd met Sue and Carl there when he dropped off her books and computer and they'd brought her some personal items and a prescription for Rod. They hadn't stayed long. He, however, had remained. He'd called Kim and made arrangements to meet her a little later than usual. He wanted to make sure Rod would be okay; and he needed to speak with Mac.

As he came back into the condo, he found Mac sitting on the couch reading. "Hi. Rod okay?"

She looked up and smiled at him briefly. "I hope so," she sighed, thinking what a long afternoon it'd been for him. "I got him to drink a little soup and take the antibiotic. He's still running a fever. But at least he's asleep. He was so restless earlier... Coop, I hate seeing him suffer."

Cooper nodded. "I know," he told her affectionately as he joined her on the couch. He was relieved that she, at least, didn't appear to be letting Saturday night at the movie get in the way. He set their food on the little table and removed the salads and sandwiches he'd picked up from a nearby deli.

As he did so, Mackenzie couldn't help but think of last night's dinner and all that had followed. _Was it really just twenty-four hours ago? Wow, it seemed like much longer than that_, she realized. So much had taken place between them since they'd sat right here on the floor and eaten dinner.

"Aren't you hungry?" Cooper asked, seeing her expression. She appeared to be a million miles away.

"What? Oh yeah, it looks good." She smiled. "Thanks. You guys really came through for us this afternoon." Then realizing just what she'd implied, she amended, "I mean, came through for me."

_Why_, Cooper wondered, _did she still seem reticent–almost shy–about referring to herself and Rod as a couple?_ He couldn't believe that the smartest, most confident student in the school could not be sure of herself when it came to talking about her relationship with a guy who was completely crazy about her–a guy who had no problem in letting the whole world see how he felt. "Mackenzie..." he said in an earnest voice.

"Yeah." She turned towards her friend, surprised at his use of her given name.

"There's nothing wrong, you know, with referring to the two of you as 'us.' That's how we all see you. I know that's how Rod sees the two of you. And I think that's how you see it, too."

Mac felt her face redden even further. Cooper was like a brother to her. But she wasn't comfortable talking publicly about her relationship with Rod. She didn't want to be perceived as taking too much for granted. And above all, she never again wanted to experience the humiliation and pity she'd endured in Jerusalem.

Cooper watched her closely and decided to change the subject. "Mac, what happened to Rod? I know it happened at basketball, but how?"

"Let me get some plates and stuff and then I'll tell you as we eat." She got up and walked towards the kitchen, using this as an opportunity to gather herself emotionally.

All Cooper saw, however, was how at home she seemed to be here. He wondered if she'd recognized it yet. Somehow he didn't think so. He followed her into the kitchen.

"Coop, what do you want to drink?" Mac said loudly, unaware that he had followed her.

"Whatever you've got."

Mac practically jumped. "You scared me."

"Sorry. I thought you could use some help."

"Thanks. Why don't you take the plates and stuff and I'll get us something to drink. Juice, milk or water?" She asked before explaining, "Rod didn't make it to the store before he got hurt and I only got some basic stuff this morning."

"Juice is great."

Once they were seated on the couch and enjoying their dinner, Cooper again raised the subject of his friend's injury. "What happened to Rod's arm?"

"He said there was a collision and that he got undercut going to the basket."

"That's all?" Cooper asked her.

"Yeah," she paused, putting down the sandwich she'd been eating. "What are you getting at?" Knowing how intuitive he could be, she wondered if there wasn't more to the story than what she'd been told.

He shook his head. "Nothing. I'm surprised, that's all. Rod's got great balance and he always plays under control." He didn't want her to know about his suspicions, at least not until after he'd spoken with Rod. "Well," he shrugged, "it is a physical game and accidents do happen. I'm sorry he had to go through all this."

"Coop, he really scared me. He didn't say much about what happened after the surgery. However, from what his grandmother told me, it was a close call. He almost didn't make it." She felt an involuntary shiver and had to mentally shake herself. "But at least he was mostly out of it then." As she spoke she turned her head in the direction of Rod's bedroom. "Now he's miserable having to fight off the post-operative infection and the fever."

Turning back around, she commented, "You know, it seems totally insane to go through something like this over something as trivial as a pick-up basketball game."

_I'm afraid you don't know the half of it_, Cooper silently told himself. "When did you talk with Rebecca?"

Mac was surprised. "You know Rod's grandmother?"

"Sure. We grew up together, remember?" Cooper smiled as he thought about those days. "Anyway, she was always at our ball games. Baseball or basketball, it didn't matter."

Mac wasn't surprised by this news, however. Even she knew the strength of the bond between grandmother and grandson.

"And frequently she'd take us all out for dinner or ice cream afterwards, provided we won or more important, were good sports. She hated for us to lose. But even more she hated if we won without dignity. She wouldn't stand for any showboating. And she didn't just limit her expectations or her opinions to Rod." Cooper chuckled at the memories. "Trust me, the whole team got an earful when any of us stepped over the line."

"When that happened I bet she called all of you by your full names," Mac suggested, "with a 'Mister' tacked onto the front for effect."

"How did you know that?" Cooper wondered.

Mac laughed. "Because Rod told me this morning how, when she was really after him about something, she would call him, 'Mister Roderic Gabriel Calloway.'"

"You know, she's always been the only person I know who actually gets away with calling him, 'Roderic.'"

"I know." Mac smiled inwardly, as she thought about their morning together before his fever had really become bad.

"Fortunately," Cooper continued wryly, "she generally spared me the use of my given first name. But that didn't stop her from frequently referring to me as 'Mister H. Cooper Young, III.'"

"I imagine the two of you as young boys hated getting tagged with such big and formal names."

"You got that right, Mackenzie Spencer Allen," he teased.

"Point taken, Mister Young," Mac told him. "My name isn't a whole lot better. I like it now. But it wasn't easy being the little girl with either two or three boy names depending on if you called me 'Mac' or 'Mackenzie.'"

They both laughed and before returning to their dinner.

When it appeared they were both mostly done, Cooper turned to face her. Soberly he said, "Talk to me about Saturday night."

"What do you mean?"

"Mac, I spoke with Mike. He told me about the two of you seeing Rod at the movie theater with another girl."

She felt her blood chill as all of the emotions from earlier in the week came flooding back into her consciousness.

Cooper saw the effect his words were having on her, but this was important. It had to be talked about. "Why didn't you go talk to him? Why torture yourself like that?"

"I don't know," she said truthfully. "I guess I was just taken back and shocked to see him there. He didn't want to come with us..." Suddenly something else occurred to her. "Coop, you've known Rod and Mike for a long time. Something's not right there. What is it?"

"Have you asked Rod about it?" He didn't feel like it was his place to have this conversation with her.

"Yeah, but he says it's nothing. That it's no big deal."

It wasn't a big deal for Rod, Cooper realized. After all, Rod hadn't even recognized Mike that first week of school. Mike, on the other hand, was an entirely different story it seemed. But if his suspicions were correct, Rod might be thinking something entirely different now. "I wouldn't worry about it." He wasn't going to talk to her about this... that was Rod's call. "But Mac, you don't honestly believe he with someone else, do you? Not in that way, I mean."

"I did at first and it really hurt," she admitted.

"And now?"

"Now, I don't see how it's possible. I mean, where is she? I've been with him since yesterday evening and nobody has called or come by. And Rod," she sighed, "has been nothing but attentive, caring and very sweet to me–even though he's the one feeling terrible."

"You could just ask him about it, you know."

"I can't do that to him–not when he's sick." She'd come here yesterday wanting more than anything to find out about the girl and now it just didn't seem that important to her. So much had happened between them. "In fact," she said, "I may not ask him about her at all." She looked at Cooper's face and added pointedly, "I don't want you to either."

"Mac, if it will help ease your mind somebody should ask..."

"I mean it," she interrupted. "I don't want anyone talking to him about it. Promise me, Coop, that you won't say anything to him. This is between us and nobody else. And I'm going to pretend it was nothing. It can't be."

"All right, we'll play it your way." He smiled at her, and putting an arm around the back of the couch, turned to her more directly. "Personally, I think it was all a misunderstanding. Rod's crazy about you. He's not that guy. He's a good man–an honest man. I like to tease him about being the big man on campus, but he would never deliberately hurt you. I can't believe that he'd play anyone like that."

His words warmed her. It helped to have someone else tell her what she must have already known deep in her heart. "Thanks," she told him affectionately, "it's good to be reminded of all that."

He gave her a nod and a wink in return. "That's what brother's are for," he assured her.

"Will you excuse me for a minute? I want to check on him." She stood up.

"Sure."

She began to walk to the bedroom.

"Mac?"

She turned around.

"Stay with him. He needs you. I'll clean up here, but then I'd better take off. Kim's waiting for me."

"Okay."

"Call me if you need anything. Are you going to be at school tomorrow?"

She glanced in the direction of where Rod was sleeping. "I honestly don't know."

"Take care of him. We'll cover for you."

"Thanks, Coop. Don't forget to lock up."

"I won't. We'll check in with you tomorrow."

She nodded and walked into the bedroom, which was now completely dark. She turned on the bathroom light so she could better see him. Fortunately, he was still asleep. She sat down next to him and lightly rubbed his back. For a long time, she sat there and watched him. After awhile, she leaned over him, and gently kissed his forehead, allowing her lips to linger far longer than if he'd been awake. He was again very feverish and wouldn't sleep long. They were likely in for a very long night. But, at least, they were together.


	20. Band of Brothers

**Author's Note: **The title of this chapter is taken from Shakespeare's _Henry V_: "We few, we happy few, we band of brothers..." One other note, get a bunch of law students together–especially good friends–and inevitably you end up with a lot of light-hearted, good-natured verbal sparring.

**20. Band of Brothers**

By late Saturday afternoon, Rod was going nuts. He was desperate to get out of the house. "Come on, Mac... please. Can't we just go to a movie? Take a walk? A drive? Anything... I don't care. I've just got to get out of here."

She looked up at him from across the room. He'd been itching to get out since he woke up late that morning, but she wouldn't let him. He'd still been running a slight fever. So instead both of them had been studying, trying to catch up on some of the reading they'd missed. They'd learned early on in their relationship that if they actually wanted to get any school work done when together, they had to study from opposite ends of the room–or at least far enough apart so that there could be no touching and therefore, only minimal temptation. Even when sitting like this, however, they still had a hard time completely focusing on the words in front of them. Nothing had changed much, she mused, since that afternoon in the library two days after they'd met, when sitting at adjacent tables, they'd literally been unable to keep from staring and smiling at each other. She still, at times, felt like a teenager with a crush on the cutest boy in the school.

"Well, you do look better," she told him. She allowed herself to look him over. She'd given him another shave earlier. He had on real clothes and shoes for the first time since he'd showered on Wednesday afternoon. And he really did look more like himself... and hotter than ever.

It'd been a long couple of days for him. When he woke up Thursday night not long after Cooper had gone, he'd been utterly miserable. The fever was so high that his skin literally hurt. She'd felt so bad. He'd slept little that night. Mostly he just paced the floor wearing only basketball shorts because it hurt to have anything touching his skin. He must have taken a half dozen showers trying to find some relief. He'd insisted that she sleep, which she did for awhile. She couldn't sleep for long though–not with him hurting so. And finally, when the fever broke late yesterday morning, he'd slept practically around the clock. She'd had to wake him every few hours and almost force him to take his medicine and stay hydrated.

His grandmother had called several times to check on him. And at last he'd spoken to her and his siblings earlier in the day. His feelings for all of them had been so obvious by the look on his face and the warmth in his voice as he spoke with each of them. She wondered if his face and his voice had those same qualities when he spoke to her. She thought so, but she was too close to the situation to be sure.

Rod watched her leisurely check him out. He stood and crossed the room to where she sat. "Look better? Don't you mean feel better and look incredibly sexy and irresistible?" he teased, placing his uninjured arm on the left side of her chair and leaning down over her until their faces were only inches apart.

Instinctively she lifted her chin to meet his smiling gaze. His nearness and the scent of his aftershave, about did her in. "Yeah... that's what I meant," she stammered, all ability to formulate a witty response having unfortunately abandoned her.

Seeing her reaction caused him to smile. He bent his head further and without touching her anyplace else he lightly kissed her cheek, and then the base of her neck. "Come on, Mackenzie... just for a little while." He heard a sharp intake of breath as she tilted her head back even more. He knew he was getting to her. Very slowly, he moved to the other side of her face and traced a path with his lips from the edge of her wide, full mouth across her cheek to the sensitive spot of her neck just beneath her ear. "Please, Mac..." he whispered.

That did the trick. Mackenzie knew just where they'd end up if she didn't put an end to this foreplay. "Okay," she said breathlessly, "we can go out."

That response earned her a very passionate, very pleasurable kiss on the lips followed by the cutest grin she'd ever seen.

"What do you want to do? A walk? Dinner? A movie?"

She laughed at the almost hyper way he was now practically pacing the room. She stood and went to him. "Why don't we start with a walk and see how you do." She reached up and ran her fingers through his thick, dark hair. "I know you feel better now... but you're still not over the infection."

"A walk is good," he readily agreed. He'd take what he could get–for the moment. He kissed her before heading into his room to get a jacket. It was the end of October and the evenings were getting cool. From his closet he called out to her, "Mackenzie, do you have a jacket?"

"No," she yelled back. "And don't forget to put on your sling."

"Okay." He found a couple of hooded sweatshirts just as Mac walked into his room.

"Mind if I freshen up?"she asked walking into the bathroom.

"Of course, not."

"Do you want me to clean the mirror?" It still had her lipstick message written across it from Thursday morning. She'd meant to clean it but kept forgetting.

"Don't you dare," he told her peeking his head in the door, having thrown the sweatshirts on his bed.

"Rod, you can't just..."

"Yes, I can," he said. "It's my mirror and I like it."

She shook her head. She was learning he had a sentimental streak a mile wide, though he generally only showed it to those with whom he was really close. Somehow it added to his strength and highlighted his masculinity even more.

"Now, Ms. Allen, you do what you need to do so we can get out of here." He closed the distance between them and lightly ran his right hand down her cheek, her shoulder, and the length of her arm until he was holding her hand. "Although personally," he told her, "I think you'd still be the most beautiful thing on earth even if you never looked in another mirror again."

He turned to exit the bathroom, not letting go of her hand until the distance between them broke their contact. He gave her one last smile before closing the door behind him.

Mac knew her face was the color of a crimson rose. She felt her cheeks. They were unnaturally warm. Would there ever come a time when she was physically unaffected when he called her beautiful? Because she still didn't see herself that way... not like he seemingly did. She wondered whether any woman truly did.

Rod grabbed the sweatshirts from his bed and his wallet from his dresser, checking to see if he had enough cash. He was waiting for her in the family room when she finished. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah." In truth, she was just about as excited to leave. She hadn't been out of the house since getting back from the grocery store Thursday morning.

"Which hoody do you want?" He held both of them up. One was an old Yale Baseball sweatshirt and the other one was plain.

"The baseball one." She'd never been a big baseball fan, but lately she found herself increasingly fascinated by the game.

He helped her put it on and then did it up–fighting to hold the bottom of the zipper with his left hand.

Mac let him struggle with it because his need to be a gentleman was just too cute. Although she repeatedly had to fight the urge to intervene.

When the zipper finally reached the top, Rod kissed her, feeling like he had won a great battle. He liked it that she wanted to wear the baseball one. One thing they'd been unable to do together because of the damn strike was see a Red Sox game. Oh well, there's always next year, he said to himself... which in and of itself, he realized, was a refrain familiar to every Red Sox fan. He put on the other sweatshirt with Mackenzie's assistance in getting the sleeve over his cast. And at her insistence, he also put on his sling.

As they walked out the door, Mac lowered her head and inhaled the jacket's scent which she discovered was a unique combination of Rod and his aftershave lotion. She decided instantly that he wouldn't be getting this particular sweatshirt back. It now belonged to her... and it would be accompanying her–unlaundered–to Europe in less than a week.

XXXXXXXX

A few hours later, Rod and Mac walked out of the movie theater with Cooper and Carl, who had called while they were still out walking. Rod had talked them all into seeing _The American President_... Well, he'd talked Mac and Cooper into seeing it. Carl hadn't needed to be convinced as he, like Rod, was a political junkie. The boys had spent the day working on their appellate brief for the national moot court competition which would be held the second week in January; and they were both dateless as Sue, a graduate student in music, was practicing for a big piano recital and Kim, a chemistry/pre-med major, was taking an exam.

"How about getting some dinner," Rod suggested. "I'm starved."

"How about pizza at your place?" Mackenzie answered.

"Let's go out. I mean, aren't you sick of home? Because I am."

Carl, who had seen the concerned looks Mac had given Rod during the evening, came to his friend's aid. "It's Saturday night. Everywhere's sure to be packed. I say we just order pizza."

"Good idea," Cooper piped in, having caught on. "Pizza sounds really good tonight. Besides you know it always tastes better out of a box."

"Well, I can see I'm outnumbered," Rod conceded, "so pizza it is." He recognized he was being conspired against. But he was pleased about her continued concern so he didn't fight it.

"Can we get a ride?" Mac asked the boys. "We walked over."

"Of course," Cooper answered.

From the car Rod called _Frank Pepe's Pizzeria _and ordered a couple of large pizzas, drinks, and a salad for Mac. It was one phone number he had on speed-dial. In addition, he also knew most of the employees by name which came in handy when in a hurry.

While waiting for the pizza to be ready, the four friends sat in the car and talked.

"Okay, you two," Rod said referring to Mackenzie and Cooper, "just admit it, you liked the movie."

"Yeah," Carl added, "both of you were laughing like loons at several spots. So don't try and pretend you didn't have a great time."

"Alright, I admit it. I liked it a lot more than I thought I would. The dialogue was smart and the politics weren't too annoying."

"See Cooper, confession is good for the soul," Rod teased. "Now Mackenzie, I do believe it's your turn. I promise you it won't cause any lasting damage. All you have to say is, 'Rod, as usual you were right and I was wrong.'"

Cooper and Carl laughed.

Mac, on the other hand, responded with a "very funny" and a playful elbow aimed directly at his rib cage. But that only put herself in even closer proximity to him which he took complete advantage of by tickling her one-handed until she relented. "Oh, alright," she finally admitted, "it was a good romantic comedy that was well-written and well-acted. But it was totally over the top and not at all realistic."

"You don't think we could have a widowed or unmarried president today?" Rod asked, having stopped his tickle torture and replaced it with a soothing neck rub.

"I just don't think it's very likely," she said almost with a sigh, having instantly relaxed at the change in his touch. "... Probably the same odds as having a woman president in the next twenty-five years or so."

"You must not think very highly of your sex, Mac," Cooper told her wryly.

"To the contrary," she assured him, "it's your sex being smart enough to vote for someone of my sex that I have no confidence in."

"Ouch!" Cooper exclaimed with a pained expression that was full of mockery. Then he turned more serious because he had tremendous faith in this woman's abilities. "But you know, Mac, you could take it upon yourself to prove everybody wrong. I'd vote for you."

"Me, too," Carl agreed.

"Absolutely," Rod said, giving her a little tug on her ear.

"Thanks, guys. But I think I'll leave the politicking to Rod and Carl. Both of them are far better at the necessary ass kissing than I will ever be... or will ever want to be."

All three boys were momentarily taken back by the bluntness of her expression. However, the short silence was soon followed by genuine laughter before Rod said, "Carl may excel at butt kissing, Mackenzie, but you more than anyone know I am the master of an entirely different–far more pleasurable–form of kissing." He moved his head closer to her as if he were going to demonstrate this mastery.

Mac playfully hit him on the cheek with the palm of her hand. "Not for long, Calloway... not for long," she told him dryly, trying to cover her embarrassment. "Now go get that pizza or no dessert for you."

"Well, we certainly can't have that, can we?" he answered with a wink as he opened the car door.

XXXXXXXX

A short time later, the guys were gorging themselves in Rod's living room on the artery-clogging pizza pie known simply as "The Special." Sitting next to Rod on the couch, Mac ate her salad and watched them with amused interest. Eventually, however, the smell got to her and she, too, did eat.

When he was finished Rod sat back and said, "Wow... that hit the spot. Although it came nowhere close to Mackenzie's home cooking."

His comment was met with stunned silence. After a moment, however, Mac reached out and placed the palm of her hand on his forehead.

"Mackenzie," Rod asked her, "what are you doing? I'm fine."

"Just making sure your fever hasn't spiked again... because if you're bragging about my cooking you must be delirious."

He took her hand and kissed it. "Just deliriously happy, honey," he told her looking only at her, "just deliriously happy." He was pleased to receive a steady gaze and a sedate smile filled with warmth in return.

Cooper and Carl, on the other hand, rolled their eyes and made audible gagging sounds and gestures to each other.

"Sorry," Rod told them, "but can I help it if your women have better things to do than be with you jokers?"

"That's it, Calloway. Rub it in good, why don't you," Carl said turning a pretend knife in his hand. "I gotta say though," he added, "you do look a lot better than you did the past couple of days."

Cooper nodded in agreement.

"You guys were here?"

"Yeah, don't you remember? Oh... that's right," Cooper responded, "both times you were asleep with your butt in the air, snoring like a big old bear."

Carl and Mac laughed hysterically at Cooper's description.

"You two must be blind and deaf because I never sleep on my stomach. Besides, I'm not the one who snores," Rod said, subtly glancing peripherally at Mackenzie, who suddenly got the urge to close the pizza boxes sitting directly in front of her on the coffee table. "But it does feel good to be out of bed and feeling human again. Now if I could only get rid of this stupid cast."

"What really happened there?" Carl asked.

Rod shrugged. "It's just one of those things. Basketball's a physical game. I got fouled and landed wrong. It happens." Rod was relieved that Carl seemed to take him at his word. Cooper, on the other hand, was a different story. He saw the questions lurking in his friend's eyes and realized this topic of conversation was far from being exhausted.

"But the one good thing that came about because of it," Rod continued as he placed his right arm around Mac's shoulder, "is that I've been able to spend a lot of time with this beautiful lady... that is until she leaves me next week."

"It's definitely been quite the week," Mac said, still not quite comfortable with how easy such words seemed to roll off his tongue.

"Where is it you and Kate are going again?" Carl asked.

"Mainly Paris and London."

Cooper pointed to Carl and Mac. "Didn't you two hit those places after our first year?"

"Yeah," Carl answered, "but somehow I don't think Mac and Kate are going to be doing much backpacking this trip."

"You backpacked through Europe together?" Rod hadn't heard about this adventure.

Mackenzie nodded. "Along with several other friends. We had a good time. Toured France, Italy and Spain... and London."

"I'm jealous. Carl and I are going to be stuck here writing that stupid brief. So what do you and your mother have planned?"

"A lot of girly stuff: plays, museums, good food and lots of shopping. You know, we could use someone to carry all our purchases."

Carl and Cooper groaned. They–but especially Carl–had spent plenty of time standing around while Mac shopped.

"Rod," Carl asked, "has anyone warned you that Mac considers shopping her favorite sport, hobby and pastime all rolled into one?"

"All I can say, champ," Cooper added dryly, "is that it's a good thing you're loaded."

"Oh please, Coop," Mac said with feigned disgust. "And just who was it who didn't backpack around Europe with us because that would be too uncivilized?" Mac looked at Rod. "Instead he had to go on yet another African Safari."

"And work in an orphanage," Cooper clarified.

"Uh oh," Carl said, "somebody better change the subject or we'll be forced to listen to St. Cooper and his 'Save the Children' infomercial all night long–not that it isn't important work mind you, but still."

"Or even worse," Mac chipped in, "he'll start regaling us with tales about lions and tigers... oh my!"

Even Cooper laughed. "Don't worry," he said, " I'm definitely not going to waste tales of my noble quest on this group."

Mac and Carl rolled their eyes. "Oh please," they both said in unison before Carl added, "like we haven't heard them a hundred times already."

"I haven't heard a lot of them," Rod said.

"Well then, you can stay here and listen to Cooper while Carl and I get the cheesecake out." Mac said, standing up.

Rod was stunned. "We have cheesecake? When did you get cheesecake?"

"I brought it over with dinner the other night," Mac told him. A slight blush crept up her cheeks as she thought about that night. "We just... never got around to it." She began to stack the plates and glasses from dinner.

Rod wrapped his good arm around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. "I think somebody's been holding out on me," he teased.

"Trust me, Calloway, you were in no condition for cheesecake the past couple of days."

Cooper and Carl sat back and watched this exchange with amused interest.

"So... how about now?"

"Only time will tell," she told him as she stood up and quickly moved out of his reach before he could start something else.

Carl stood, picked up a lot of their dinner mess from the table, and followed her into the kitchen with a big smile on his face.

XXXXXXXX

Cooper, on the other hand, moved to a chair closer to Rod. "Alright," he said, "Mac and Carl might buy this whole 'it's just one of those things' line you've been feeding everyone, but I don't. I want to know the truth. Was it Mike?"

"Just leave it alone, Coop. Trust me. It's better this way." Rod looked at him directly but didn't say more. He still didn't want anyone caught in the middle of such a stupid and juvenile situation.

"Well, that answers my question.," he responded. "Was it intentional?"

"The foul?" Rod asked.

Cooper nodded his head.

He didn't answer immediately. Instead the two friends just looked at one another. Finally, Rod admitted, "Yeah... it had to be. Beyond that, I really have no idea why it happened or what his real intent was."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm not planning to retaliate, if that's what you're asking. But I'm not going to take any more crap from him on the basketball court once this thing heals either," Rod said holding up his cast. "If he keeps playing dirty, I will respond. If he screws with Mackenzie's emotions or otherwise hurts her, I'll be all over him. In the mean time, I'm just going to ignore him and pretend like he doesn't exist." He had learned many lessons in the Army. The most important of which was to focus only on the desired target and not allow yourself to be distracted by peripheral matters that were wholly unimportant. Mackenzie was his focus and he was not going to let himself get distracted by someone as insignificant as Stanton.

"With all you've been through... I mean, Rod, you almost died. How can you be so calm about it?"

"Trust me. I feel anything but calm about it... and him. But what can I do about it right now?" Rod shrugged. "Besides, it's actually kind of ironic. He hates me and he's pissed about my relationship with Mackenzie so he chooses to try and get to me on the court. But in reality it backfired on him." He shook his head with a little closed mouth smirk. "Because all he's done is strengthen our relationship. I may have been physically miserable and out of it a good part of this week. And I may have to wear this stupid cast for awhile. But guess who's been right here with me? The time we've had together has been incredible. And that's the way it's going to be from now on." Rod's voice was quiet but filled with determination.

"How do you really feel about her? I mean, you are serious, aren't you? This isn't just another relationship?" Deep down Cooper knew his instincts were right but he wanted some assurance. He owed that to Mac.

Rod heard something in Cooper's voice to make him believe this wasn't an idle inquiry... but a question for which he really needed an answer. Looking him squarely in the eye, he said, "Cooper, I love her. Nothing I've ever felt for anyone else comes close to what I feel for her. I fell for her almost the moment we collided and that was just the beginning for me. She's the one I want in my life on a permanent basis. She's the woman I intend to marry... and I'm not going to let anyone stand in the way of us being together–especially a punk like Stanton."

Cooper relaxed, recognizing that his friend spoke only the truth and that he would never hurt her intentionally. "I think you should tell Mac what's going on there."

"No," Rod was firm. "And I don't want you talking to her either. Outside of basketball–which I won't be playing for awhile–Stanton is irrelevant to me. I won't be having anything to do with him. But Mackenzie has to work with him on journal for the next seven months. I'm not going to make her life hard by putting her in the middle of something so unimportant. I won't do that to her. It's just not worth it... not when he'll be completely out of our lives after graduation."

"I don't know, Rod." Cooper shook his head, an look of uncertainty on his brow.

"I won't make her choose, Coop. I love her too much to do that to her."

"Okay, I understand. But I'm a little uneasy about this whole thing."

"Yeah... me, too," Rod sighed. "I just don't know what else to do. She's got enough on her plate without me adding to it."

"Okay, I won't say anything."

"Thanks. How's Kim?"

"Great. We're having a really good time. I mean, she's just a lot of fun."

"And incredibly beautiful?" Rod said with a suggestive nod and a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah," Cooper agreed with a smile, "she is. But you know, it's more than that. She's incredibly smart. She can take my crap and dish out her own. Yet, she's sincere..."

"And kind." Cooper may love to tease and joke around, but Rod knew he had a heart the size of Africa and he deserved someone who would appreciate that in him. Someone who would see behind the playfulness to the real substance of the man.

"So do you love her?"

Cooper thought a minute and then said with almost a surprised tone, "Yeah... I think I do."

"So does that mean she'll be applying to med schools on the west coast?"

"She already has. But if she gets in here, Duke or Hopkins, I'll likely be the one changing plans."

Rod was surprised. He knew that Cooper really wanted to work in California–at least initially. "And you're okay with that?"

"Yeah," Cooper acknowledged, "surprisingly, I am."

"I'm glad."

XXXXXXXX

Mac took the cheesecake and the raspberry topping out of the refrigerator and set it on the counter before getting four clean plates out of the dishwasher.

Carl put the dirty plates and silverware in the sink and then stood beside her as she prepared their dessert. "You seem very happy and more at peace."

She stopped what she was doing and turned to look at her old friend. "I am."

"What a difference a week makes, huh?"

"Yeah," Mac agreed, thinking back on the events of the past seven days. Without conscious thought or awareness, she smiled broadly as she cut another piece of cheesecake and put it on a plate.

"I was right, then? Right about his feelings for you." Carl knew by the way her face lit up upon hearing his words that he had been right.

"He told me he loves me." Her voice was full of emotion.

"I told you so," Carl's tone was kind and he had a smile on his face. Her happiness meant almost as much to him as his own... or Sue's.

"Yeah, you did."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And... what did you tell him?"

"I didn't say anything–not really."

"Why not?" He knew that deep down she had to love him, too.

"Because... I'm just not ready," Mac said, growing a little bit defensive.

"Meaning you don't yet feel the same way... or you're scared to admit that you do."

Mac glared at him. She hated feeling backed into a corner. "I don't know, Carl... And I'm done talking about it." She turned away from him and put her focus back on the cheese cake.

"Hey," Carl put his arm around her. "I'm not meaning to pry... or rush you, okay? He's a good man, Mac. I'm just glad he makes you happy."

Mac relaxed. "Thanks. I'm sorry I snapped at you. And you're right, he is a good man–a very good man. He's been nothing but sweet and totally patient with me." She knew Rod would hate being described as 'sweet' but that's what he was. "Enough about us, what's going on with you and Sue?"

"Well, unlike you," he teased, "I know exactly how I feel. And I'm thinking of asking her to marry me... maybe at Thanksgiving."

"That's wonderful." Her good mood fully returned and a genuine smile lit up her face. "I couldn't be more happy for both of you."

"Thanks, kid." Carl playfully touched her nose with his index finger. "You do know that I only want the same joy for you?"

"I do know that," Mac assured him. "Now we'd better get this cheesecake out to the boys from Greenwich before they stage a riot of some kind."

"I wouldn't put it past them," Carl said laughingly before he helped her bring out the cheesecake.

XXXXXXXX

An hour later Rod and Mackenzie lounged on his couch with her head against his shoulder and their long legs sprawled across the coffee table. They'd put on a movie but neither of them were paying much attention to it because they were distracted by their individual thoughts and each other.

Mackenzie turned and looked up at him.

"What?" he asked indulgently, looking down and running his hand lovingly down the side of her face, brushing her hair out of the way.

"You look tired," she told him sitting up. "Maybe you should go to bed." They'd ended up having a full-day.

"I'm fine," he gently assured her. "It's been a good day."

"Yes, it has," she agreed. "I'm very glad you're feeling better."

"Me, too." He turned towards her and brought her back into his embrace. He slowly lowered his head as she raised hers. Unlike Thursday morning in the kitchen, tonight there was no hesitation from her when he deepened their kiss. Rather she matched him move for move with a hunger and fire that was uniquely her own.

However, circumstances allowed them to get only so close. And by the time they finished they were both laughing at the barrier created by his cast. "I'm sorry, kiddo," Rod told her, "I feel like we've got a real yet intangible chaperone... one that must be uncomfortable for you."

"It's okay," she said with equal good humor, "I'm getting used to it." She looked closely in his eyes and saw that he was worn out. "But you really should get some sleep... And I'm leaving."

"That's probably a good idea," he conceded. "I bet you're tired, too. Cuddle with me a few more minutes before you go?"

Mackenzie put her head back on his shoulder, loving his warmth... his scent... his strength... really everything about him.

Rod kissed her forehead and rubbed her back. After a few minutes like this, he said, "What are your plans for tomorrow?"

"Other than church at 10:30, nothing."

"Want some company?"

"Yeah... if you want to come," she told him briefly as she raised and tilted her head to see his face.

"I'd love to... and afterwards, we'll go someplace special for lunch."

"I'd like that," she told him before again returning her head to her favorite spot on his shoulder.

Rod again began to rub her back. Neither of them spoke for some minutes until finally he said, "Thank you."

"For what?" She again tilted her face to see his.

"For taking care of me... for being here for me and with me."

"There's no place I'd rather be, and no one I'd rather be with." It wasn't until after she'd said the words that she realized it was the truth. She turned her head inward and rested her cheek against his heart. It's steady rhythm was a beacon for her and so symbolic of the man. "Rod?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you for being patient with me."

"Whatever it takes to make you happy, Mackenzie... whatever it takes." He paused, taking a deep breath. Her beauty, her sweetness... just having her so close, was inevitably getting to him. Well, another cold shower would have to be tonight's cure, he thought, as he fought with himself for control. "But Mac, I think you better leave... or I won't be responsible for my actions."

She lifted her head from his chest and smiled at his obvious discomfort. "I think you're right... Let's clean up and then I'll go."

"Don't worry about it. I'll do it in the morning."

Mac ignored him and took the few remaining dishes into the kitchen.

Rod followed her. "Mackenzie, just leave them in the sink. I'll do them while you get your things."

A few minutes later she came out of his bedroom again wearing his Yale Baseball sweatshirt.

"I think you like that sweatshirt," he told her as he removed her back pack and duffel bag from off her shoulder and slid them over his right shoulder.

"I do," she acknowledged. "In fact, I'm just going to keep it."

"You are?" He grinned. "Well, it does look better on you... very sexy."

She smiled back.

"Come on, I'll walk you out."

"Thanks."

As they got outside, he asked, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you home?"

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "Besides, my car's here."

"Okay," he said as he followed her to the car. "But call me as soon as you get to the apartment."

"Rod," she protested half-heartedly, "that's really not necessary."

"It is to me. Now, where are your keys?"

She handed him the keys and allowed him to open the door.

He tossed her bags across to the passenger seat. He took her computer bag from her, and reaching across her seat, he lay it, too, on the opposite seat. But when she went to get in the car, he stopped her with an arm across her waist. "Mackenzie, come here."

She closed the remaining distance between them. She was surprised when he lowered his head until their foreheads–and only their foreheads–touched. She didn't pull away, however. She instantly discovered that there was something very soothing, very special about this kind of connection... something which suggested a oneness of mind, body and spirit that affected her deeply.

Still touching like this, Rod told her softly, "Always remember... I love you." He heard her happily sigh in response, and that was enough for now. He broke their contact and saw that she was smiling. He kissed her with great care and then helped her into the car. "I'll pick you up at 10:15 tomorrow morning."

"I'll be waiting."

He closed her door and watched her drive off. As he walked back into the condo he thought about what a long, but immensely satisfying, four days it'd been. And he realized that the condo wouldn't seem like home again until she was there to stay.


	21. Word Play

**21. Word Play**

Late Wednesday morning Rod stopped by the journal office to pick up Mackenzie. Unfortunately Stanton was yet again talking to her at her desk. He approached and placed his hand on her shoulder. Leaning down, he kissed her on the cheek and then whispered, "I'm ready to go whenever you are. I'll meet you out on the front steps." He gave her a smile and Stanton a hard stare. Then he left the office without waiting for a response.

"Mac, I can't believe that you're still with..."

"Don't say another word," she interrupted impatiently, "because I'm still furious over you not telling me about him getting hurt."

"Mac, I already explained that. I didn't think that after Saturday night you'd care," he said. "And I just forgot about it."

"Yeah, and I'm not buying it." She looked at him hard but then thought of something else. "What really happened that morning, anyway?"

"What did Rod tell you?"

"He said he thought he got undercut and landed wrong. But you were there. You had to see it. So what happened?"

"It's like he said. He got fouled," Mike shrugged. "It's a rough game. I'm sure there wasn't any intent to injure him for real," Mike said sheepishly. Was that all Calloway had told her? "Look, Mac, I'm sorry he got hurt. I'm sure the fact that he broke his arm was totally accidental." His voice was full of genuine remorse. "But that doesn't change what or who he is... You're not his type. He's using you."

Mac glared at him. "We're done here... and I'm late," she told him angrily as she picked up her purse. "We'll have to finish going over the layout later. Rod and I are having lunch with his grandmother."

As she left the room, Mike called out, "He will hurt you, Mac... you know I'm right."

"Whatever, Mike," she called back. As she walked, she thought about the situation between Rod and Mike. Something was seriously wrong there. Mike had lit into her Monday morning about still being with Rod after Saturday night. And once she'd learned that he'd known about Rod's injury from the beginning and hadn't told her, she'd gone off on him, too. She knew Mike didn't trust Rod, she just didn't know why.

And Rod wouldn't even remain in the same room as Mike. When he'd brought her flowers on Monday, he didn't linger like he usually did. Instead he kissed her, invited her to lunch and said he'd be studying in the library when she was free. Today was much the same. Yet whenever she asked him about what was going on, all he would say was that it was "nothing to worry about," that it was "no big deal." She hated feeling trapped in the middle of something she didn't understand. Maybe, she sighed, things will have settled down by the time she returned from Europe. Otherwise, she and Rod would have to talk about it. But at least she didn't have to deal with it anymore today... or for the next ten days.

When she walked outside, Rod was there to greet her. He had on sunglasses, a black mock turtleneck and slacks, and a camel hair sport coat. He looked good, she thought, in Levis, loafers and a button down shirt. But dressed like this... well, he was unbelievably hot.

"Hey," he said as she approached, "you look absolutely stunning." She was wearing some color of brown suit with a knee length skirt. And heels that made her already incredibly long legs look even longer.

"You don't look too bad yourself." Mac gave him an appraising look. "But how did you get that jacket on over your cast?"

"With considerable difficulty," he said wryly, "and I have no idea how I'm going to get it off. It's a good thing I've lost some weight or I'd have really been stuck."

"Well, at least it appears you didn't cut yourself shaving this morning," she told him in consolation. When she'd seen him Monday morning his face was all cut up. And even yesterday, there were a few small abrasions.

"Yeah, but it took forever and it's not nearly as enjoyable as having you do it for me." Their eyes locked and they smiled, each remembering the shaving routine they'd developed while she had stayed with him last week. "Did you get done what you needed to this morning? Because I can always go without you if you're too busy."

"Are you trying to get rid of me, Mr. Calloway? Afraid to introduce me to your grandmother?" she teased.

"Not a chance, Ms. Allen." Rod put his arm around her back as they began to walk to his car. "I just know that because of me you are behind on your journal and school work. And I'm sure you've got a lot of other stuff to get done before you leave tomorrow afternoon."

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "I'll get the journal business done this afternoon, the personal stuff done tonight or tomorrow morning, and I've got two long plane rides to catch up on my class work." It's funny, she thought, school had always been her first priority... but now it just didn't seem to matter all that much. "Besides, I really want to meet your grandmother." Mac was both excited and nervous about this lunch with Rebecca Calloway. It would be her first chance to meet any of his family and she desperately wanted to make a good impression. "I just hope she'll like me."

"Honey, she'll love you," he said caressing her back a little. "In fact, she's already a big fan. She couldn't stop talking about you last night, when she called to say she was coming up and that she expected us to meet her for lunch."

"Did she really use the word 'expected?'"

"She did," Rod said with a small chuckle and a shake of his head. "And when that happens, all of us know this is a command performance where attendance is mandatory. So thanks for making my life easier because I did not want to show up without you."

They walked in companionable silence until they got to his car. Rod opened her door and helped her in. As he rounded the car he looked at his watch. They were late. If they didn't hurry, he was certain to be greeted as _"Mister Roderic Gabriel Calloway,"_ and that was never a good thing.

Once they were out of the parking lot, Mac asked, "How did the two of you get so close?" She had a good relationship with her grandparents but nothing like his appeared to be with his paternal grandmother.

"Well, you know my grandfather died when I was eight. Even before then, I spent a lot of time with them. I was their only grandchild, so they loved to spoil me. And I was named after Papa. He used to take me to work with him all the time and to ball games–especially to see the Red Sox... never the Yankees." Recalling the simplicity of those days made Rod smile.

"After he died, I spent even more time with Nana. The twins were born a few months later and had to remain in the hospital for a number of weeks. My parents were pretty occupied with taking care of them... and she was lonely, I think. So I became her project. She took me with her everywhere. She'd drag me to museums, historical sites, homeless shelters, hospitals... you name it. And she continued to take me to see the Red Sox at least a couple of weekends every summer. She'd read to me and challenge me. However, she also taught me how to play poker and the stock market, to pick a lock and to throw a curve ball."

Mac was amazed–but not surprised–at the variety of instruction and the breadth of education he'd received from Rebecca. "I want to learn how to pick a lock and play poker. So are you going to teach me or should I ask her?"

Rod reached over and placed his hand on her thigh. "I'll gladly leave the lock picking to her, but Mackenzie, the poker lessons are all mine. Only I'm warning you, there's only one kind of poker we'll be playing... and it's the kind that doesn't require betting with chips."

Mac took his hand and returned it to where it belonged. "How can I be sure you'll still respect me in the morning?"

"Shoot baby," he said mimicking the Southern boys he'd known in the Army, "of course I'll still respect you... the real question is will you still respect me?" He looked at her out of the corner of his eye with a raised brow.

"We shall just have to see, Mr. Calloway... we shall just have to see."

"Trust me," Rod told her with a cocky grin as he again let his hand find a home on her thigh, "what you'll see, Ms. Allen, will take your breath away."

Mac laughed, her cheeks now red, and shook her head. "You really are incorrigible."

"And you wouldn't have it any other way." Rod glanced in her direction and gave her a wink before moving his hand back to the gearshift and his eyes back to the road ahead.

Mackenzie, meanwhile, sat back and smiled, knowing that this lunch with Rod and Rebecca was likely to prove unforgettable.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rebecca deliberately arrived at the restaurant early and positioned herself where she could observe Roderic and Mackenzie before they could see her. She'd been looking forward to this day for a long time–ever since he'd visited her after the first week of school and had informed her that he'd met the woman he intended to marry. She had been stunned. She'd never heard anything remotely like that from him. He usually was very tight-lipped about his relationships. Particularly when it came to making future plans.

When they walked into the restaurant, Rebecca could tell instantly just how well they fit together. Mackenzie was tall and striking–nothing like anyone he'd ever dated in the past. She was a woman while they'd been mere girls. Of course, Roderic, too, had changed a great deal since those days. He'd always been mature but his time in the Army had transformed him from a boy to a man. He now knew what he wanted from life and he was intent on following his own chosen path. This had been a surprise and a great disappointment to his father. And in a lot of ways it was too bad because he possessed a knack for business and finance. Rebecca moved to greet them at the same time they spotted her.

"Hello Nana," Rod said as he warmly kissed her on the cheek.

Rebecca put her hands on both sides of his face. "You, my boy, look much better than you did a week ago... And I know just who we can thank for this marked improvement."

"Yes, ma'am," he said smiling in the direction of Mackenzie.

His smile, Rebecca saw was that of a man in love.

Rod stepped back and placed his arm around Mac's back, drawing her in towards them. "Nana, this is..."

"Mackenzie, it is an absolute pleasure," Rebecca interjected, placing a hand on her arm. "I've been anxious to meet you since Roderic first mentioned you to me.

"Thank you, Mrs. Calloway. I've wanted to meet you, too." Mac's first impression of Rebecca was that she was a taller, darker version of Nancy Reagan. She was wearing a beautiful, rich, green suit. Mac was glad Rod had thought to have them dress more formally.

"Please call me, Rebecca or Nana–whichever you prefer."

"Thank you, Rebecca."

"If you ladies will excuse me," Rod said, "I'll see if our table is ready."

Both women watched him walk away.

"Thank you for taking care of him, Mackenzie," Rebecca told her. "I love all my family but he occupies a special place in my heart. I would have worried greatly about him had you not been with him this past week."

"He had me pretty worried, too," Mac sighed. "But in reality he has taken care of me more than I took care of him. Even when he was sick and hurting, he was always a gentleman... thinking about my needs, my comfort."

"That's good to hear," Rebecca said wryly. "I'd be very disappointed in him otherwise."

Rod returned and the three of them were led to a round table in the corner of the restaurant. Rod first held the chair for his grandmother and then did the same for Mackenzie. After surveying the menus, the two women chose seafood salads while he ordered a steak.

"Would you indulge us for a minute, Mackenzie," Rebecca said turning towards her as they waited for their lunch. "There is a little ritual which Roderic and I need to get out of the way."

"Of course," Mac said, very interested in what was to follow.

"Thank you." Rebecca turned to Rod. "Now, my boy, _If you can keep your head when all about you are losing theirs and blaming it on you..._"

Rod smiled. "_If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, but make allowance for their doubting too."_

"_If you can wait and not be tired of waiting,"_ Rebecca started.

"_Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies..."_

Mac couldn't help but smile as the two went back and forth.

"_Or being hated, don't give way to hating..."_

"_And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise,"_ Rod finished.

"Because you've been sick, I gave you an easy one," Rebecca teased.

"Yes ma'am," he agreed. "_Bring me men to match my mountains..."_

"_Bring me men to match my plains..."_ she responded.

"_Men with empires in their purpose..."_

"_And new eras in their brains."_ Rebecca patted his cheek. "You've always loved that one, haven't you?" she asked rhetorically.

Mac suddenly felt warm as if she, too, were part of this very close relationship.

Rod looked at her. "Sorry, Mackenzie... it's just a little game we play. If you're not careful, you'll get thrown in next time."

"I'm always up for a good challenge," she said meeting his gaze.

Rod noticed the twinkle in her very beautiful, very expressive brown eyes. "Yes, I know you are."

Rebecca smiled. The heat they generated with just a look made her heart skip a beat. This is how it should always be, she thought. Suddenly, she was young again and looking at Gabriel in the same way.

"How long have the two of you been doing this?"

Mackenzie's question brought her out of her reverie. "Since before he was old enough to read," Rebecca said. "We began with simple Dr. Suess and Shel Silverstein rhymes and progressed from there."

"I know the first part was from Rudyard Kipling's poem _If_," Mac said. "But though I've heard the second one, I have no idea where it's from."

"_The Coming American_ by Sam Walter Foss," Rod answered.

"It's one of his favorites," Rebecca told her. "But enough of our word play. Roderic told me the two of you met on the first day of class, but I want specifics."

"Well," Mac said cheekily, "we were both late for our first class. And in his hurry, he ran me over and pushed me down."

"Mac, I didn't..." He was flustered.

Mackenzie watched with amusement as he looked at his grandmother sheepishly–like he was about to be called by his full name. She took pity on him. "But then he helped me up and dared me to have dinner with him."

"She was incredibly haughty," Rod told Rebecca, regaining his normal bearing. "She thought I was some jock who was lost, wandering aimlessly around the wrong building."

"I did not," Mac protested.

"Yes, you did... I distinctly remember hearing something about mountains and tackling dummies," he taunted. He turned back to his grandmother. "So I had to phrase my invitation as a dare. I figured she wasn't the type of woman who ever backed away from a direct challenge–way too stubborn and proud for that."

His last remark earned him an icy stare, which made Rebecca laugh. _"My boy," _she thought, _"let's see you get yourself out of this one."_

"I mean stubborn and proud in a good way," he clarified. Fortunately Mac was sitting to his right so he was able to take her hand. "But the real reason I asked her to dinner is because even though she was the one who ended up on the ground, I was the one who was floored... she totally took my breath away." Although he spoke to his grandmother, his eyes never left Mackenzie nor did he let go of her hand. And the tone in his voice was quiet and serious.

Just as Mac felt herself begin to blush, she was saved by the arrival of their lunch.

While they began to eat, conversation at the table temporarily stopped. However, soon Rebecca again began to ask questions. "Tell me about your family, Mackenzie, and where you were raised."

"Well, I'm an only child. My father, Michael, is career Navy. My mother, Kate... well, she stayed home with me. I spent my first six years here at the Essex base and then Mom and I returned to Hartford, where she was raised, when I was in high school. In between, except for stints in Norfolk and King's Bay, we were stationed mostly in the Pacific region."

"My husband, Gabriel Roderic Calloway, was in the Navy when we met... it was right after Pearl Harbor," Rebecca said.

"Tell us about it?" Mac asked. Then sensing the older woman's hesitance, she added, "Please? I know Rod is named after his grandfather and I'd like to know more about him."

"Okay," Rebecca nodded. "Well, I was just seventeen and he was twenty-five. I was raised in New York City and my family was well to do. Gabriel, on the other hand, was from a blue-collar family in Boston. But he was very smart, very ambitious. He worked his way through Yale and still managed to get perfect grades and play baseball." Rebecca sighed because it seemed like it all happened yesterday instead of more than fifty years ago.

"He was stationed nearby and was in the city on one last leave before being transferred to the Pacific. We met at a dance. I got into the club with friends who were a few years older. Anyway, our eyes met. We danced all night... and the next night... and the one after that before he had to leave."

"I had no idea you were that young, Nana." Rod was shocked.

"Your parents couldn't have been happy about the age difference," Mac added.

"I didn't tell them about him. But when they found out, they were initially furious–primarily because I ran away to join him," Rebecca chuckled. Looking back, the whole thing was rather remarkable.

"How?" she asked.

"Well, he was transferred to Honolulu for further training. We wrote in secret almost every day. And when I turned eighteen in May, I took all my savings and flew to Hawaii. We immediately eloped and began our life together." A smile played across her lips as she remembered, with fondness, their simple wedding ceremony before the Navy chaplain.

"You were so young!" Mac exclaimed. "Didn't you want the big, fairy tale wedding surrounded by friends and family?"

"Sure... but we wanted to be together more. It's different now," Rebecca told them. "Your generation wants to have its cake and eat it, too. You're looking for instant gratification. Today," she added in a tone that was almost scolding, "young people would just live together while planning the wedding of their dreams. It wasn't like that with my generation. And, you know, personally that wouldn't have worked for us." She paused to look at each of them. "Besides, when you get right down to it, marriage vows are between one man, one woman, and God. That's it. There is nobody else."

The table was momentarily quiet. Finally, Rod asked, "What happened after your wedding? I mean... I know Papa was shipped out at some point."

"Well, almost immediately I got pregnant with Roderic's father, Will. Gabriel got shipped out in September... and we didn't see each other again until August of 1945–three years later. My parents, as you can imagine, were incredibly upset by our marriage. But they came around. I moved back home after Gabriel left. I tried going it alone for a month or so. It was too lonely and I was too young. Will was born in March of 1943. He was almost two and a half years-old before he met his father."

Mac was amazed. "How hard. I can't imagine having to make such sacrifices."

"What choice did we have?" Rebecca asked. "The world was in chaos. If the United States had not joined in to fight evil, what would the world look like today? And how many more millions of people would have been slaughtered or killed in what surely would have become a futile battle against Hitler and his friends?"

"Wow... you're right." Mac, of course, had studied World War II numerous times in school and she'd heard countless stories about her own grandfather from her father. But for some reason, hearing about it from the perspective of a woman, really brought the concept of sacrifice home to her.

Rod had been raised hearing these stories... and he'd had concepts of duty and sacrifice drilled into his head since he was a very small boy. Even so, hearing his grandparents' story today affected him on a much deeper level. Maybe because he now understood what it was to love... and how hard it would be to be separated from each other like that for years, with no guarantee of a reunion. "What was it like when Papa finally came home?"

"Well, it was an adjustment... and it was wonderful. Fortunately, we still loved each other. And we were willing to do whatever it took to make things work." She looked at each of them. "It wasn't easy. It was hard work. There were lean years at first. But working together–building a life together for ourselves and for our son–was incredibly rewarding and fulfilling, too."

Both Rod and Mackenzie were speechless, caught up in their individual thoughts of just how deep a love and how much commitment his grandparents had shared.

"Well, enough of the past," Rebecca said finally. "Mackenzie tell me about your job?"

"It's with a big New York firm that does a general practice. I haven't really decided which area I want to work in, but I'm hoping to get exposure in several different areas to help me decide. I'm particularly interested in litigation. The hours are going to be long. And I'm not sure how if I'll want to put in 70-80 hour weeks for too many years."

"What are your long term goals?"

"Well professionally, I think I might want to teach or be a judge someday."

"And personally?"

"Nana, don't put her on the spot," Rod said decisively.

Mac touched his arm. "It's okay. I don't mind."

"You sure?" he asked softly. "Because you don't need to feel pressured or..."

"I'm sure."

Watching her grandson come to Mackenzie's defense over even such a little thing, pleased Rebecca.

Mac turned to Rebecca. "Personally, I hope someday to be happily married and to eventually be a mother. I see how much Rod cares for his brother and sisters and I realize how lonely I was as an only child. Because of that, I definitely want more than one child. Beyond that, I haven't really given the matter much thought."

"Will you want to work, too?"

"I think so," Mac admitted. "I've worked and studied hard and it would be difficult to let it all go. My mother did it and I know Rod's mother did, too. But I don't know if I could be happy and fulfilled without working, too."

"There is no one right or wrong way to do things, Mac," Rod suggested. "We can make our life whatever we want it to be."

"Roderic is right. I worked with Gabriel for many years while he got the bank up and running. Sometimes it seemed we were there more than we were at home. But Will adapted. The bank became his playground, and well... look at him now." Rebecca paused. "However, both Gabriel and I made sure that we never lost sight of his needs or of our duties and obligations as his parents."

Mac was relieved that Rebecca, too, had worked during marriage. She sometimes felt like such a terrible person–a terrible woman–for wanting a career. Then Rod's words began to sink into her consciousness. What did he mean by "our life?" Could he really have meant it as them together? Was he really thinking that far into the future?

Rebecca could see that Mackenzie was deep in thought, so she turned her attention to her grandson. "How is school?"

"I like it. I know Dad will hate hearing that," he sighed. "And I'm still behind because of last week... but at least I've got all next week to catch up."

"I've never heard of a fall break before."

"It's something unique to law schools–I think. It's so second and third year students can fly out for job interviews without missing class. First years can't even talk to employers until December so it's just a week off for us."

"Will you be going home at all?"

"I'm planning on it. Christopher has his last football games and I know that Syd's state soccer tournament will be starting soon. Besides," he added taking Mac's hand, "with this one leaving tomorrow for Europe with her mother, there will be nothing to keep me here."

Rod's touch, and the mention of Europe, brought Mac's full attention back to the conversation.

"Where will the two of you be going?" Rebecca asked.

"Mostly London and Paris. But we may take a few day trips in the countryside, too."

"Have you been there before?"

"Yes ma'am," Mac told her, "on a couple of backpacking excursions with friends. But this is my mother's first trip. She can never get my father to take a vacation. So this is one thing I wanted to do with some of the money I earned this summer."

"You'll have a wonderful time. London and Paris are such romantic cities," Rebecca mused.

Rod caught the eye of his grandmother. "_Oh, London is a man's town, there's power in the air..._"

"_And Paris is a woman's town, with flowers in her hair... I know that Europe's wonderful, yet something seems to lack: The past is too much with her, and the people looking back. But the glory of the Present is to make the Future free, We love our land for what she is and what she is to be._"

Mac listened with keen interest as grandmother and grandson again engaged in their word play.

"_Oh, it's home again, and home again, America for me! I want a ship that's westward bound to plough the rolling sea, To the blessed Land of Room Enough beyond the ocean bars, Where the air is full of sunlight and the flag is full of stars._" As he spoke, Rod turned his eyes to Mackenzie.

"The two of you," Mac commented, "are amazing. What was that last one?"

"_America for Me_," Rebecca told her before looking at Roderic, "by..."

"Henry Van Dyke," Rod answered.

"Does anybody ever win this game?"

"Occasionally, Mackenzie, but not very often. Of course, both of us probably practice far more than we are willing to admit."

"Yeah," Rod admitted, "and if either of us wants to add a new piece then a copy has to be provided to the other first."

"Although it's been quite awhile since we added anything new."

"Thank heavens," Rod exclaimed. "My brain is getting full with all this law crap... And I still have two years left."

Both women laughed.

"Rebecca, what was Rod like as a child?"

"_Uh oh,"_ thought Rod. "Now Nana, you know you don't need to share all the family secrets today."

"Don't worry, my boy. I'll save the good ones until it's too late for her to escape from your clutches."

"Nana..." he pleaded.

Mac loved watching him squirm at someone else's teasing. He always seemed so unflappable with her. She would have to study this woman closely and learn her ways.

"Roderic, just sit there and be quiet," Rebecca instructed, "while I tell Mackenzie about what she should expect from your future sons if someday you're ever lucky enough to convince her to make you an honest man."

"Yes, ma'am," Rod said. He knew when he was beat. Hoping to hide his embarrassment, he turned his focus to what was left of his steak.

Mackenzie, however, was enthralled at the way Rebecca managed him and very curious as to what her man was like as a little boy.

"Roderic was a very playful, curious child which frequently resulted in mischief finding him... or him finding mischief. We could never be quite sure."

"Let's just say I got called 'Mister' a lot," Rod interjected.

His grandmother ignored his commentary. "He always had a million questions about how and why things are as they are and he had a vivid imagination. He loved baseball and would play for hours on end–never getting tired of the repetition. He also loved to go with his grandfather to the bank or to watch the stock exchange. And he would only eat peanut butter and banana sandwiches for lunch. But he was a very affectionate, very loving child who generally was kind and wanted to please."

"You make me sound like a wimp," he complained under his breath.

"Hardly that... Mister," Rebecca responded before mercifully changing the subject. "Mackenzie, I was surprised you didn't get to meet the kids when they were here."

Mac turned to Rod. "When were the kids here? Why didn't you tell me? I would have liked to meet them."

"Mac, I tried. That's why I kept calling that Sunday."

"What Sunday?"

"The Sunday before last," he explained. "I had the Mustang. I thought it would be fun to take a drive with the top down and maybe have a picnic somewhere. Mom and Dad were gone and the kids wanted to come, wanted to meet you. So that's why I kept calling. But you never answered or returned my calls."

Mac looked down, mentally thinking back to when exactly that was. It was, she realized, the day before he broke his arm... and the day after she went to the movies with Mike. Is it really possible, she wondered, that she'd actually seen him with one of his sisters? She looked up and saw Rod and Rebecca looking at her, waiting for her response. "I'm sorry, I wasn't around. I'd driven home that morning and forgot my phone in the car."

Something wasn't right, Rod recognized. Something was bothering her about that weekend. But he had no clue what it could be. "Well, we'll have to set up another meeting after you get back."

"I'd like that," she told him.

Rebecca looked at her watch and realized that she'd better be on the road shortly if she was going to make it to that charity auction in New Canaan, where she lived, before she went back to Greenwich and the kids.

With fortuitous timing, their server brought the bill to the table. Rod took it from her and paid it. "Nana, what time do Mom and Dad get home tonight?"

"I think around seven. I haven't heard from them except for a couple of postcards they sent to the kids. I'd better run, however, if I'm going to make it to that auction."

"I'll call them tonight," he told her, standing to pull out her chair.

"You'd better because they still don't know about your arm."

"You're right," he said moving to pull out Mackenzie's chair, too.

"Thank you for meeting me on such short notice," Rebecca told Mackenzie as they left the restaurant.

"It was wonderful," Mac assured her. "Thank you for driving up to meet me."

"It was my pleasure, my girl." Rebecca hugged her.

Mackenzie realized that she was really only a couple of inches taller than Rebecca.

As they walked towards her car, Rebecca said, "Have a great trip with your mother. I expect to see lots of pictures when you get back."

"Yes ma'am."

"And Mackenzie," Rebecca whispered to her as Rod opened her car door, "he's going to be miserable while you're away. He loves you. You're his happiness."

Mac looked at her and then at Rod... and she couldn't help but smile.

Rebecca watched her face light up as she looked at Roderic. Mackenzie may not realize it yet, Rebecca thought, but she wore the expression of a woman in love.

XXXXXXXXXX

Once they were in the car Rod exclaimed, "Well... we survived."

"What are you talking about? She's wonderful."

He started the car. "Yeah, she is."

After they were out of the parking lot, he commented, "I still can't believe that you're actually leaving me tomorrow."

"Rod, it's only for ten days... You probably won't even know I'm gone."

"Oh, I'll know," he said quietly. "Are you excited?"

"Yeah, I am."

"You realize, of course, that it won't be as memorable without me," he teased. "I mean, strolling along the Seine, watching the city lights come up from the top of the Eiffel Tower... or walking by the Embankment after listening to the symphony and watching the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace. Well, it's all going to be rather rotic for you."

"Rotic?" Mac looked at him in confusion. "What kind of word is that?"

"A word I made up." He grinned. "It means romantic without the man."

It took a minute for his meaning to register. When it did, she laughed. "Calloway, that is the corniest thing I've ever heard."

"Yep, and throughout your entire trip, Ms. Allen, you'll be wearing my sweatshirt, thinking about it and thinking about how right I am," he paused. "And you'll be lonely, wishing I was there holding your hand."

"How do you know I won't have someone of the male gender there holding my hand?" Mac asked suggestively.

"Kiddo," he smirked, "I have no doubt that you'd easily be able to find someone to do just that... but that won't magically transform the experience from 'rotic' to 'romantic' for you. Because only _the_ man–your man–can do that... and we both know exactly who he is and where he'll be." Fortunately they pulled up to a red light just as he finished, so he was able to meet her gaze, and see the twinkle in her eyes. "And he'll be just as lonely here... wishing every minute of every day that he was there to hold your hand and carry all your shopping bags." The light turned green and he turned his eyes back to the road.

Neither of them spoke again until they again reached the law school. They didn't have to... he'd said it all.


	22. The River of Doubt

**Author's Note:** The title of this chapter comes from the name of a river in Brazil explored by Teddy Roosevelt after his defeat in the presidential election of 1912. At the time of his journey, the river–a thousand mile tributary of the Amazon–was new, unchartered territory just as he was entering a new, unchartered chapter in his life.

**22. The River of Doubt**

As Mac walked towards the law school she saw Rod sitting outside surrounded by a group of mostly female classmates. He appeared to be telling a story or a joke and everyone was laughing. She'd had a great time with her mother, but two weeks had also seemed like an eternity.

As Rod finished telling the story, he looked to his right to say something to Tiffany and spotted Mackenzie striding towards him. He was surprised. She and her mother had decided to extend their trip a few days and he didn't expect her until later that evening. It had been two weeks since he'd seen her... and boy was she a sight for sore eyes. "Excuse me," he told the group as he stood and walked to meet her.

"Hey," he said with a smile as they reached one another, "you're home early."

"Hey... yourself," she said softly.

He bent to kiss her but she turned her head and instead offered her cheek, which he accepted after a moment's hesitation. What was that all about, he wondered. He knew she was reserved which is why he generally only teased her when they were alone or occasionally with Cooper and Carl. But this was crazy.

"Let's go someplace we can talk." He took her backpack from her shoulder and led her away from the group to an isolated bench near the corner of the quad. "What's going on?" he asked when they were seated. "Do I have bad breath or something?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Mac, you know what I'm talking about... don't pretend like you don't."

"Rod," she answered impatiently, "I don't know what you're talking about... only that you seem to be looking to fight for some unknown reason."

"I'm not looking to fight," he sighed. "But why didn't you want me to kiss you? Why turn your head? I mean, we haven't seen each other in two weeks and you turn away from me. What's going on?"

She hadn't totally realized what she'd done. It was just instinct. "I just don't like doing it in front of an audience."

"It was just a few friends, Mackenzie... hardly an audience. Are you sure that's the only reason?"

"Yeah... I just don't like it, okay?"

"Okay," he said raising his arms in mock surrender, though he was still bugged by her reaction. Nonetheless, he found her irresistible. He physically ached to touch her. He looked around as he moved closer to her. "Can I kiss you now? There's not a soul in sight."

She whispered "Yes" just as his lips touched hers. Almost immediately she completely lost herself in his kiss and the provocative exploration of his tongue.

"When did you get in?" he asked with a raspy voice when they finally came apart.

"A couple of hours ago," she told him with a smile. "We caught an earlier flight. I quickly showered and came right over. I wanted to see you and I decided it probably would be a good idea to get to my two o'clock class."

Rod looked at his watch. They still had a few minutes before she had to go inside. "Why didn't you call? I would have picked you up."

"Yeah... but you would have had to miss class." She shrugged. "It really wasn't a big deal."

"I wouldn't have minded skipping class, Mackenzie." He reached across the back of the bench to tuck some hair behind her ear.

"It wasn't necessary."

"Is it that you didn't want me to skip class?" he asked. "Or is it that you didn't want me to meet your mother?" He posed this second question in the same playful tone Mackenzie had used when she'd suggested that he might be nervous about having her meet his grandmother. However, in response he saw something in her eyes which caused him to believe there was truth in his words. "Does she even know about me, Mac? Know that you're in a serious relationship?" he asked curtly.

"She knows I have a new friend," she shot back with a lightly sarcastic tone that was meant to tease him. "How could she not with all the roses and stuff you had delivered to the hotels?" Seeing his dark, furrowed expression, she quickly realized that he'd misread her.

"I see," he said standing up and looking away from her. He was angrier than he'd been in a long time. A few seconds later, he took a deep breath and looking down at her, he told her, "You know what... I don't see and I certainly don't understand." He turned and began to walk away.

"Rod, where are you going?" she called out.

He turned and took a step towards her. Glancing down at his watch he replied, "I've got a study group and you're going to be late for class if you don't hurry."

"Can't we talk about... I didn't mean..." She stood and moved towards him.

"I don't know what to say, Mackenzie." With his hands on his hips, he looked her in the eyes. "I don't know what–if anything–you want from me. But apparently we have very different opinions about our relationship and where we stand with each other."

"Rod, I don't..."

He shook is head in disbelief. "Look Mac, I know how I feel... and obviously you still don't. I don't know if the reason is you're afraid or simply indifferent. When you figure it out, let me know." As he spoke his anger and frustration increased. "In the mean time, what you tell or don't tell your mother... or anyone else for that matter... is none of my concern."

Fighting for control, he turned and walked away with his right hand clinched into a tight fist.

He didn't meet his study group, however. He was too worked up... too angry at her and himself. He simply got in his car and began to drive. Normally, he would look for a pick up game and take his frustrations out on the court. But he still couldn't really play basketball with his arm... that was still a couple of weeks away–in spite of all the milk and calcium he'd been inhaling. Maybe he could take out his frustrations on the river. The new, shorter cast he now wore allowed him to straighten his arm and rowing didn't require him to bend his wrist. He figured it was worth a try. It wasn't sailing but at least it would get him out on the water, which was always a good place for reflection. Besides, in his current state of mind it was a lot safer than driving–particularly with the speeds the Porsche was capable of reaching.

XXXXXXXX

By three o'clock Rod was settled in a single skull on the Housatonic River. Though it was November, the weather was warm. He had shed his sweatshirt and secured it around his waist. Initially he took it slow until he gained confidence that his left arm would hold up. He was glad he'd spent some hours practicing after his initial experience with Mackenzie. What he'd learned seemed to come back quickly.

After twenty minutes or so he felt comfortable enough to let his mind think about what had happened that afternoon with Mac. He still fought the urge to turn around and look where he was going but it was getting easier to have the blind trust necessary to enjoy the sport. He just didn't understand how she could have so much trust in the river and seemingly so little in him. As he thought about it... about her... about them... his frustration increased and he began to row faster. He was angry at her... and even more angry at himself.

He'd never worked so hard in his life as he had with her... or been so patient. Hell, he'd never had to work much at all in his past relationships. They'd been generally easy and uncomplicated. Of course, he'd never let anyone get to him like she got to him. He'd certainly never loved anyone like he loved her. In fact, she was the only woman he'd ever admitted to loving at all. And he'd never wanted anyone like he wanted her.

This was new territory for him. She'd been such a surprise. Something he never could have anticipated. Definitely not something he'd been looking to find. But there she'd been... unexpectedly at his feet. And suddenly his life had been instantly and irrevocably altered.

By now he was out of breath. A month without any anaerobic conditioning had taken its toll. He looked at his watch: 3:40 p.m. He'd better start back. He turned around and slowly started down the opposite side of the river while he caught his breath. He needed to find Mackenzie... needed to make things right.

He just didn't know what else he could do or what else he could say to convince her they belonged together... that they were right together... that they could never be as happy apart as they were together. Something or someone was holding her back. He'd seen the pain in her eyes. He knew someone had hurt her deeply.

Was that all it was? Could there be something else? How did he break through her fears? How did he get her to trust him–to have faith in them–like she did the river? Was time all that was required? He wanted to be patient–he was trying to be patient. He didn't want to pressure her or push her–although he'd failed miserably today. He wanted to help her come to him. But damn, it was hard. He'd never worked out harder or taken as many cold showers in his life. He didn't know how much longer he could wait for her... and he wasn't simply thinking about sex, although he physically ached to be with her.

He was willing to meet her more than half way. But he couldn't do it alone. So where did they go from here? Was he just kidding himself that underneath the reserve and the fear, underneath the intelligence and the pride, underneath the compassion and the kindness, she loved him, wanted him and needed him, too?

Confounded, Rod closed his eyes and concentrated only on his breathing and on the rhythm of his strokes.

XXXXXXXX

A few minutes later he heard someone pass him, his sense of hearing heightened by his lack of sight. He looked up and saw it was Mackenzie. Their eyes locked at the same time. They immediately stopped stroking. They stared at each other in silence for some moments before executing reverse strokes until they met each other somewhere in the middle.

"Hey," they both said at the same time. "I'm..." They smiled and laughed but then again said nothing.

Finally Mackenzie broke the silence. "You got a new cast!"

"Monday," he told her. "I can't tell you how great it is to be able to straighten my arm again. Hopefully, the whole thing will be off soon."

"Doesn't it hurt to row?"

He shook his head. "When they X-rayed it before changing casts it had almost healed. I think the screw has really helped... Mac, I'm sorry about earlier."

"Me, too. I tried to find you, but you'd already gone... Are you headed back in?"

"Yeah, I think I've had it. But I'll wait for you... if you want."

"Thanks," she told him appreciatively. "I'll come with you. I was just coming to burn off some frustration and to try and figure out why we argued. I really hate fighting. But I'd rather talk to you than row... that is if you want to talk."

"I do," he quietly assured her.

They returned to the boathouse in companionable silence. Mackenzie had been utterly shocked to run into him on the river after their last adventure here. After that experience, she didn't think he'd ever get back out here. And she was equally surprised that he seemed to have no difficulty now in keeping up with her. He even beat her to the dock and gave her a hand in getting out of the boat. As they put their equipment away, she asked him about it. "I think someone's been secretly practicing."

"Yeah," he acknowledged. "I bribed a couple of undergraduates on the men's crew team to give me lessons. I spent hours practicing the weekend before I broke my arm. The kids even joined me on that Sunday morning. It was hilarious." He put his arms around the back of her waist. "I wanted to surprise you."

"Mission accomplished," she told him. Then with a twinkle in her eyes she asked, "So were you planning on turning this secret surprise into some grand competition to see who will ultimately rule the river?"

Rod grinned. "That wouldn't be my first choice, Professor Allen. But if that's what it takes to forever win your heart, then game on. Are you up to the challenge?"

"I'll think about it... and get back to you," she playfully whispered in his ear before kissing him. Then she took his right hand and led him out of the boathouse.

He didn't resist. "Where are we going?" he asked. "Someplace, Madame, where you can have your wicked way with me?"

"I'll get back to you on that, too, Mister," she told him lightly. "But right now all we're going to do is talk."

"Spoilsport."

They walked down the path away from the boathouse to the empty spectator bleachers. The sun was beginning to get low in the western sky. They climbed to the top where they could lean back against the announcer's booth. Before they sat down, Rod untied her sweatshirt from around her waist and assisted her in putting it on. Then he did the same with his own shirt, grateful that he could now do it without too much of a struggle.

When they were settled on the bench facing towards each other, Mackenzie said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it earlier like it sounded."

"It's okay." He reached out and gently ran a couple of fingers along the line of her cheek bone. "I'm just ahead of you... we both know that. It's my problem not yours."

"That's very kind. But we both know it's really my problem," she admitted. She took a deep breath. "You just surprised me, that's all. Rod, of course, my mother knows about you. She just doesn't know everything," she added sedately with a shy, warm smile. "And thank you for the roses. They were a beautiful surprise... and the play tickets and opera tickets were wonderful. We both enjoyed ourselves. It was a very thoughtful thing to do."

"Your welcome. I just wanted you to know I was thinking about you and missing you."

"I missed you, too... a lot."

He smiled, feeling reassured by her words and the sincerity in her voice. "Mac, I would like to meet her... and your father."

"They want to meet you, too." It had been a long time since her parents had met someone significant in her life. Was she ready for that? She paused a minute, wanting to get the words right so that he would understand. "Rod, can we just enjoy things the way they are for right now and not talk about or worry about the future? It's just that this isn't what I had planned... it–you–were such a surprise. Sometimes it doesn't seem quite real, but something out of a dream or someone else's life."

"I do understand what you're feeling, Mac," he interjected. "Trust me, you caught me completely off guard... and changed everything in the process."

"You just always seem so calm about it–so confident–like it's no big deal." She sighed. "I just feel like everything's moving so fast. Can't we just stay like we are for awhile?"

"If that's what you want," he said sincerely. "But Mackenzie, nothing stays the same–not for long. We either move forward together or we retreat backwards apart. That's it. Those are the only choices."

"I know you're right. I just need a little time to catch my breath," she pleaded.

"Okay."

"Thank you." She leaned towards him and began playfully nipping at his neck before melding her mouth with his. Two weeks had seemed like a lifetime without his warmth, his teasing... his touch.

He thought about challenging her for control. However, she hadn't initiated physical contact between them all that often. He decided simply to sit back and enjoy it, readily parting his lips when she deepened their kiss and teasing her just enough with his own thrust to show her how pleasant he found this exercise to be.

When they were virtually out of breath, they finally parted. Rod looked at his watch and realized her body clock was still likely set hours ahead. It was dark now but he could still see her face in the dim light put out by the surrounding street lamps. "I bet you're tired and hungry and I'm starved. Let's get something to eat and you can tell me all about your trip... especially about all those rotic moments."

She grinned. "You were right about that, you know. Right about me wearing your sweatshirt frequently and wishing you were there holding my hand."

"I know, Ms. Allen," he responded in his normal cocky manner, "and sooner or later you'll realize that when it comes to matters of the heart, I'm always right."

Mac wasn't entirely sure about that last sentiment. But she had to acknowledge that it was growing ever more difficult to disagree with him. She moved next to him on the bench and put her head on his shoulder. Instantly she felt his arms close around her, immediately warming her. She reveled in his unique–very masculine–scent and in the comfort of his overpowering physical presence enveloping her. She looked out into the night and saw in the river the reflection of the lampposts that lighted the path from the boathouse. It was beautiful and peaceful.

"Well, it's definitely not rotic right now," she said mischievously.

He chuckled. "No... tonight absolutely qualifies as romantic." He kissed the top of her head and held her even tighter. A few minutes later, he asked, "Are you ready to go?"

She sighed. "A couple more minutes. I just want to enjoy the view and being with you."


	23. Stonewalled

**23. Stone-walled**

When Mike walked into the cafeteria looking for Mac on the following Wednesday afternoon, he saw that she was eating with Cooper and Calloway. He thought about waiting for her to finish but he needed to speak with her about a problem that had come up with one of the submitted journal articles. He walked over to the group and pulled up a chair. "Hey guys."

"Hi Mike," Cooper and Mac said almost simultaneously.

As she spoke Mac didn't look at Mike but instead watched Rod. He said nothing, made no acknowledgment of Mike's presence. Instead he began to play with his food. Something was bothering him. They were both under a lot of stress with final exams creeping ever closer. Their grades would be based entirely on their performance on those exams. It was more than that, though. He hadn't been himself the past week. Oh, he'd still been generally playful and attentive with her, but he was on edge about something. It wasn't something she could really pinpoint... but it was there nonetheless.

"Where's Carl?" Mike asked, trying to ease into the situation.

"He's with Sue," Mac answered. "Her big recital is tonight and she's understandably nervous."

"Who wouldn't be?" Mike agreed. "Cooper, where were you this morning?" he asked without thinking about what he was really saying.

"Well Mike, you chronic overachiever's don't have a complete monopoly on hard work," he teased. "Even us bottom-feeders put in a little extra time with our studies occasionally." Cooper was surprised that he would bring up basketball in front of Rod, who still couldn't play. It felt kind of like someone pouring salt on an open wound. "So..." he said changing the subject, "Kim and I are planning on hitting that recital tonight. Anyone else coming?"

Rod couldn't help but listen to their conversation. However, his reaction was opposite of what Cooper thought it would be. He didn't resent the time away from basketball because it had strengthened his relationship with Mackenzie. At the same time he couldn't wait to get back out on the court–which hopefully would be early next week. He loved to play more than he was annoyed by Stanton's presence. Continuing not to play would be the path of least resistance, but he was not going to let Stanton think that he was scared to play or that he had won anything. However, he was done here. "We'll be there, won't we?" he asked Mackenzie.

"Of course," she answered.

"Great. I've got to go," he said standing up and grabbing his tray. "See y'all later."

"Where are you going?" Mac asked him. "You don't have class or study group." She'd also noticed that he'd hardly touched his lunch, which was most unusual.

He shrugged. "I need some air... need to stretch my legs," he replied and then he began to walk away.

"Wait," Mac called after him as she, too, stood and picked up her tray. When he stopped and turned around, she told him, "I'll come with you."

He nodded.

"Mac," Mike said loudly, "don't forget we've got to make a decision on that Smith article on affirmative action. It's got to be done before 3 o'clock."

"I remember. It won't take that long to go over it," she said walking towards Rod. She was worried about him. Things obviously hadn't improved between he and Mike in the past few weeks. The air between them was still so cold it would take an ice pick to slice through it. She'd asked Mike about it but all he'd said was that he was _"just trying to protect her and Calloway didn't like it."_ Cooper hadn't been any help either when she'd asked him. He'd been evasive and had tried to feign ignorance. It was time to have a conversation about it with Rod.

With a small smile, he took her tray and disposed of it along with his own. If he was honest with himself, he was still bugged that she kept him somewhat at arm's length when around others at school. And he was increasingly frustrated that every time they had five minutes alone at school there came Stanton with some journal emergency of one kind or another. He didn't want her to see it bothered him. He didn't know what problems were legitimate or contrived. And he certainly didn't want to interfere with her responsibilities as Editor-In-Chief. Even if he'd wanted to say something about it, she likely wouldn't take it well. She hated having anything dictated to her. He couldn't blame or for that, he didn't like it either. If he did, he certainly wouldn't be in law school right now and their paths never would have crossed.

Before they left the building, he told her, "You didn't have to leave, Mac. I don't want to take you away from your work–especially if it's something urgent."

"Thanks. It can wait," she told him. "I could use some fresh air, too." And they needed to talk about what was going on.

He nodded. "Do you want me to go get your jacket?"

"No. I'll be fine."

"Okay," he said and they walked outside.

XXXXXXXXXX

After several minutes spent silently walking together, Mac finally spoke. "What's with you and Mike?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've known each other for years and except for the past month you've played basketball together nearly every morning since school started. Yet you go out of your way to avoid him and it's only getting worse. Now you won't stay in the same room with him even for two minutes. I want to know why?"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. Both of you are important to me."

He stopped and turned towards her. "And you want everyone in your life to get along. Relationships wrapped up nice and neat like a Christmas present."

"Is there something wrong with that?" she asked pointedly.

"No. Of course, not. But, Mac, it takes the effort and cooperation of all parties."

"And you're not willing?"

"I didn't say that." Rod sighed heavily. He was trapped. "Look, he's your friend–your close friend. But no matter how much I may want to, I can't make things work out the way you want them to."

"So why bother?" She was put off by his attitude.

"I didn't say that either. I'm just saying that you're just going to have to accept that the two of us are not friends–not going to be friends."

"Why does it have to be that way?" Mac asked impatiently. "Change it. Make him your friend."

He shook his head. "That's just not going to happen, Mackenzie... Even if I wanted it to–which I don't."

"Are you jealous?"

"Of Stanton?" he asked incredulously, his voice also increasing in volume.

"Because we've never been anything like that."

"Jealousy has nothing to do with it," he insisted. "If the two of you were going to get together it would have happened long before I got here."

"So what is it then?" Mac's frustration was growing.

Rod was equally frustrated. He did not want to have this conversation with her. It would hurt her and make what should have been nothing into something. "You're going to have to trust me that this is one of those things that can't be fixed or changed. But it's really nothing for you to be bothered over. It's not a big deal. Forget it."

"It is a big deal," she insisted. "And I don't understand it, Rod. You're both smart, decent guys. Can't you give him a chance?" she pleaded. "Get to know him better. I think you'll find you have a lot in common."

"That's not going to happen," he said definitively. "Look, I understand that you've known him a long time and that you work closely together. I can't change that which is why I've never attempted to get between you. Besides, we both know how you would react if I ever did try... and that's not something I'm anxious to experience."

He saw immediately from the icy stare he was getting in response that he'd touched a nerve with his last comment. He also saw that she wasn't going to back down. There was, however, only so much he could tell her without putting her between the same rock and hard place he was in—and he wouldn't do that to her, not when Stanton would be out of their lives in a matter of months.

Instead he tried walking a tight rope with her. Looking at her directly, he said, "I'm not stupid, Mac. I know the garbage he's been feeding you about me from day one. And I'll only tolerate so much interference from him in regards to our relationship." He took her hand and with a gentler voice he added, "You're too important to me."

"Rod, I know there's more to this than what you're telling me."

"Forget it... it doesn't matter." He kissed her on the cheek. "I've got some errands to run. I'll see you later." He began to turn away.

She grabbed him by the arm. "You can't just leave it like that, Rod."

"Leave it alone, Mackenzie," he said firmly. "It's not your problem. You're going to have to take my word on it... because I'm done talking."

Mac watched him go. Aggravated, she sat down on a nearby bench. Something wasn't right. It wasn't like Rod to be so evasive and so closed. _What was he hiding? And why?_


	24. Real Men Marry Lawyers

**24. Real Men Marry Lawyers**

Later Wednesday night Mackenzie sat visiting with Carl and Sue in the apartment after the piano recital and dinner. Rod had joined her at the recital an instant before it had started. But he had left directly afterwards with an excuse that "there was something he had to get done."

They hadn't been back at the apartment very long when the buzzer rang with a "delivery for a Mackenzie Allen." When Mac opened the door she was greeted by an sober young man with a single red rose and an elegantly wrapped gift. She took his offerings, thanked him and shut the door.

"Looks like we now know what Rod's been up to the last couple of hours," said Carl from the couch where he and Sue were sitting. "Unless you've been holding out on us and seeing someone on the side."

"You know me," she teased back taking a seat on an adjacent overstuffed chair, "short attention span–so yeah, a different guy for every day of the week." Mac smelled the rose and looked down at the package on her lap.

"Well," Sue asked, "are you going to open it?"

Mac nodded and put the rose down on the table. She ripped open the paper and removed the lid. Inside was a note written in Rod's distinctive scrawl: "_MSA– I'm sorry I was impatient with you earlier. You touched a nerve. It's just not something I can talk about–not yet. I hope you understand. But I'd like to make it up to you this weekend. If you're amenable, wear this sweatshirt tomorrow. I love you. RGC_." Any residual frustration she felt from their earlier conversation immediately dissipated.

Mac smiled as she parted the surrounding tissue paper and pulled out the sweatshirt. It was a navy hoody with "_Real Men Marry Lawyers_" written across the front in big yellow-gold letters. It took a minute for the meaning to register in her brain. When it did she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

Carl, seeing the stunned look on his friend's face, asked, "Well... what is it?"

Mac lifted the sweatshirt and turned it towards them.

It took a similar amount of time for the shirt's meaning to register with Carl and Sue. When it did they–especially Carl–laughed loudly.

"What does the note say?" Sue asked once they'd stopped laughing.

Mac read the note to them but added, "There is no way I'm wearing this at school tomorrow."

"You have to," Sue insisted. "I think it's a sweet and thoughtful gesture."

"Definitely takes creative apologies to a new level," Carl noted.

"It's embarrassing." Mac shook her head. "No way. I am not wearing this at school—not wearing it in public at all."

"Sue's right. There's no way out of it. You have to wear it."

Mac groaned.

"Honestly, it's not that bad," Sue added.

"Well, can I just tie it around my waist?" Mac asked hopefully. "Does that count?"

"I don't think so," Carl replied with a chuckle. He wondered how Calloway came up with these things?

"Mac, it's not embarrassing. It's funny," Sue told her roommate. "You can't tie it around your waist. You have to wear it. He went to a lot of trouble to apologize. His note is so cute and sincere. You don't want to throw the gesture back in his face by not cooperating."

"I know you're right." She sighed audibly. "But I'm going to find him first thing in the morning and then take it off... and hope that not too many people really look at it in the mean time."

Carl nodded, but with amusement in his eyes. He knew just how hard his friend was to miss.

XXXXXXXX

Upon arriving at school the following morning, Mac immediately walked to where Rod's first class was held, hoping he would be there and she could show him the sweatshirt and then take it off. She'd tried to call him last night, and again early this morning, to see if he wanted to meet for breakfast. However, she'd had no answer from him either time.

She opened the classroom door and peeked inside. She scanned the width of the room. No Rod. She sighed. Well, maybe if she waited a few minutes, she could catch him. She looked at her watch. She hoped he got here quick. She had the Dean's class this morning. She didn't know what to do. Should she wait for Rod and risk being again late for class? Or should she go to class and just wear the sweatshirt for another hour? While she waited she noticed the number of interesting looks she was receiving from Rod's fellow 1L's as they filed into the classroom. Several of them–even a few she didn't know–made comments to her like "nice shirt" or "good luck with that." After a couple of minutes of this, she decided nothing the Dean could do to her would be as bad as this... she'd wait for Rod.

She waited until almost ten minutes after the hour. _"Damn,"_ she thought, _"where is he?"_ Well, she couldn't wait any longer. She had to get to class herself. She walked upstairs to her own class.

Unbeknownst to Mackenzie, Rod had been watching her with amusement from around the corner. He'd expected to see her there. He knew she wouldn't chicken out. But she would hate all the attention and would want to take the shirt off A.S.A.P. And that was precisely the point of the exercise. It was time she quit being so sensitive about their relationship around school. He'd had enough and had decided to take matters into his own hands. He'd even enlisted the aid of classmates as they'd passed him and asked them to comment on her sweatshirt. They'd all agreed as every student in the school was familiar with "Mac Allen, Editor-in-Chief of the Yale Law Journal." Of course, they also knew that she was his girlfriend so it was easy for them to play along.

Rod had initially planned to give her the sweatshirt as a Christmas gift. But after she'd turned her head on him when he kissed her in greeting upon her return from Europe, he'd changed his mind and had been waiting for the right opportunity to give it to her. Yesterday's argument had provided him with the perfect chance. He chuckled as he quickly walked into the classroom. It was going to be a long day for Mackenzie. But he'd make it up to her later.

XXXXXXXX

Once again Mac tried to slip unobtrusively into the Dean's class. This time she was lucky as he was busy grilling another student. She quietly walked down the aisle until she found a seat in the middle of the classroom. This was one of the bigger classrooms and had stadium style seating, which made hiding a difficult proposition at best. She quietly breathed a sigh of relief as she sat down. She looked over at her classmate's book to see what case they were discussing then she quickly turned her book to that page.

However, her belated entry into the classroom hadn't gone as unnoticed as she originally believed. When the Dean was finished with his current victim, he went looking for fresh meat and immediately settled on her. As she stood to begin citing the facts of the next case, his booming voice commented, "As you were yet again late, Ms. Allen, perhaps you'd be so kind to as to give us a report on your success this morning in finding that real man? That is why you're late, isn't it?"

The room erupted momentarily in laughter... and Mackenzie momentarily blushed.

The Dean smiled at the effect his words had on her. He'd received a visit yesterday afternoon asking him for a favor. When he'd heard the request, he'd been happy to oblige. Mackenzie Spencer Allen was a remarkable--but challenging--woman with a big heart and one of the brightest minds of her generation. And from what he knew of young Mr. Calloway... well, he could be just the man for her.

"No luck in that regard this morning, Professor," Mac answered back cheekily.

"Ah... well, it's still early in the day, Ms. Allen... still very early in the day." He winked at her. "But since you are standing perhaps you'd be kind enough to brief us on this next case."

"Yes sir." _She was going to kill Rod_, she thought as she began to recite the case facts.

XXXXXXXX

Immediately after class Mac hurried to the journal office. Maybe Rod would stop by there after class. She had just sat down at her desk when Mike walked in.

"What was that exchange with the Dean all about?" he asked. He'd been sitting in the back of the room.

She turned towards him with a "don't ask" look so he could see what was written on her shirt.

He rolled his eyes. "From Calloway... I presume?"

"Yeah, it's a long story." She turned back to her desk. "And I've got to read for class." On Thursday evenings Mac had Family Law from 4-7 p.m. Unlike most classes it was taught only once a week. It wasn't a difficult class so she usually did her reading the day of class.

Mike shrugged and went to work on his own studies.

Mac quickly lost herself in the topic of divorce modification. She was so heavily into her reading that she almost forgot about Rod's next class. Ignoring the puzzled look she received from Mike over her haste, she hurriedly left the office to go to wait for Rod at his classroom. Only this time she grabbed a heavy textbook in order to shield herself from the smirking looks of his classmates as they saw what she was wearing.

Once again she waited for 10-15 minutes. And once again, Rod was a no show. However, despite the obvious presence of the textbook, she still received a number of funny looks from the 1L's and more than a few comments like, "still looking for that real man, huh?" or "when you do find that perfect guy, would you see if he has a twin brother for me?"

_What the crap_? She wondered. Completely frustrated and a little dejected, she walked back towards the office. _Where in the hell was he? Was he doing this deliberately? She was so going to kill him._

Rod again watched the whole scene play out. He couldn't help but smile. A little kiss in public would seem like such a trivial thing now. After she left, he quickly and quietly walked into the classroom.

XXXXXXXX

When she got back to the journal office, Mac sat down at her desk with a loud sigh.

Mike looked up from his reading. "Where'd you go?"

"To try and find Rod," she told him. "But he apparently doesn't want to be found."

"Okay?" Mike was confused. Why would Calloway be avoiding her?

Mac saw the puzzled look on his face. "It really is a long story but I can't…"

"Hi guys," Cooper exclaimed coming into the office.

Mike and Mac both gave him a similar greeting.

Cooper perched himself on the corner of her desk. "Mac, what's this I hear about you looking for a real man? It's all over the school. Are we not men enough for you?" he asked with wink.

Mackenzie groaned and then began banging her head on her desk. _She was going to kill him. The only question was how… but, she decided, it was definitely going to be something slow and torturous._

Cooper looked over at Mike for clarification.

"Don't look at me, man. I don't know much more about it than you do. All I know is that is has something to do with Calloway and that incredibly humiliating sweatshirt she's wearing for who knows what reason."

Mac stood up and pointed to her chest. "It's this… okay. That's all."

Cooper and Mike were taken back by her reaction and just stared at her.

She continued with growing exasperation, "Rod and I had an argument. He apologized in writing and with this," she again pointed at her chest. "His note said to wear the shirt if I accepted his apology. So I did. Now I've been trying to find him all day so I can take the damn thing off…. Only he doesn't want to be found!" Again totally frustrated, she sat down at her desk.

Cooper started to laugh. _Boy_, he thought, _Rod sure knows how to keep her off balance and how to get under her skin. It was good for her… she needed it._

Mac gave him a hard look but it didn't register with him. She knew it wouldn't. Once Cooper really started laughing about something, it was hard to get him to stop.

"It's really not that funny, Coop." Mike said finally.

Cooper quieted down and wiped away the tears that had filled his eyes from laughing so hard. "Come on, Mike… it's hilarious. I know you're uptight but if anybody else were wearing that shirt around school you'd be laughing your head off. 'Real Men Marry Lawyers.' Just admit it… its funny." He started laughing again.

In spite of himself, Mike started laughing, too. The shirt was pretty funny—especially on Mac. Once they stopped, Mike told Cooper about what had happened with the Dean earlier in the morning and the two of them began to laugh even harder.

_Great_, Mac thought, _now two of my closest friends are laughing at me. He's dead! _ She stood up and began to walk out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Cooper asked.

"Home," she answered. "I've had it. He can just find me."

"Mac, stop."

She turned around, hands on her hips. "What?"

Cooper went to her and put his arm around her. "Come on, we'll buy you lunch."

"Yeah," Mike agreed as he, too, walked to her.

"I don't think so. I've really had it. I don't want to see anybody… and I definitely don't want to hear any more comments."

"We'll be right there with you." Cooper gave her a smile. "Besides Mac, the joke isn't on you… it's on Rod."

"Cooper, what are you talking about?"

"Think about it, Mackenzie. What does the shirt say? 'Real _Men_ Marry Lawyers.' Everyone in the school knows the two of you are together. The shirt could only have application to one guy: him. He's not embarrassing you. He's mocking himself as a 'real man.'"

"He's right, Mac." Mike had to admit the guy had guts. He was still afraid she was going to get hurt because of him. He still hated the guy and thought he was a spoiled playboy, but he had to respect him some, too. Calloway could have really messed up his relationship with her if he'd wanted. However, he'd kept his mouth shut about the foul and who was responsible. And Mike was grateful for that, because he really hadn't intended to hurt him—not like that anyway.

Mac thought about it and she began to laugh. She had to admit, when viewed like that, the whole thing was rather funny. "Come on guys, let's go get lunch. Seeing how food is involved, maybe the mysterious Mr. Calloway will decide to make an appearance there."

XXXXXXXX

Rod, however, didn't make an appearance at lunch. Nor did he make an appearance the rest of the afternoon. While Mac continued to be greeted with laughter and comments everywhere she went, he'd left school entirely. He'd had arrangements to make for the weekend.

He arrived back at the law school a few minutes before 7 p.m. He went directly to her Family Law classroom. When the first student left the room, Rod went in. He spotted Mackenzie standing about five steps below him with her backed turned, talking to Cooper and a few others. The room was still full of people including the professor. He smiled and went to her.

Cooper saw him approach. Fortunately he saw Rod put an index finger to his lips telling him not to alert her as to his presence.

Rod walked directly behind her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and felt her tense at the unexpectedness of his arrival. Without giving her the opportunity to say or do anything, he immediately turned her around to face him. He bent his head and with one of his hands cupping the back of her neck, he pulled her to him and kissed her possessively. He could tell that he'd surprised her. But he was pleased when she quickly relaxed; and leaning her full weight against him, she began to respond to him as only she could. Finally, he pulled back and, with a hand on each shoulder, whispered in her ear, "Have dinner with me tonight and we can talk about the weekend. I'll pick you up at eight."

Unable to respond, Mac could only give a slight affirmative nod with her head.

Rod grinned smugly and kissed her hard on the lips. Then he turned around and left the room… leaving her both speechless and the recipient of many smiles from her professor and her classmates--especially Cooper.


	25. Sea Fever II

**25. Sea Fever II**

"You're honestly won't tell me where we're going?" Mac asked as they exited I-95 on the southwest side of Bridgeport. Neither of them had class on Friday afternoon so Rod had picked her up shortly after noon with instructions that she remember her sunglasses. He wouldn't, however, tell her anything else.

"No," he told her for what seemed like the hundredth time since they'd left New Haven. "It's a surprise."

A few blocks later he pulled into a grocery store parking lot. "This is it?" She looked at him with a twinkle in her eyes. "You're not expecting me to cook for you, are you?"

"Right here in the parking lot," he joked back. "I've got a camping stove and a portable table. Got to make sure your domestic skills are still up to par."

"We've had this discussion and you'd better call Martha Stewart."

"She's not my type but thanks for the offer."

"Seriously," she asked, "what are we doing here?"

"Patience, honey… patience." He patted her knee. "This is only the first stop."

"Do I at least get to come in?"

"Only if you promise to be quiet and not interfere in any way."

"Hmm..." She pretended to give the matter serious thought. "Okay, let's go."

XXXXXXXXXX

Fifteen minutes later they exited the store with their arms full of food and a couple of bags of ice. Rod was amazed that she'd actually kept quiet the entire time they were in the store. Nonetheless, she given him a few puzzled looks, which he'd rather enjoyed.

He'd wanted to do this with her for some time, and the fact they were both coincidentally going home this weekend fell into his plans perfectly. Fortunately, the weather seemed to be cooperating, too. It was cool and windy, but sunny and dry. She may want to slow things down. However, that wouldn't stop him from having some fun and enjoying her company.

They loaded up the trunk of the Porsche and continued on their way. A short time later Rod pulled into the parking lot of Captain's Cove on the shore of the Long Island Sound. "Okay… second stop," he commented as he found a parking spot.

"Yeah… but what are we doing here?"

"We're switching modes of transportation." He got out of the car and went around and opened her door.

"What if I get seasick?" She questioned mischievously as he helped her out.

"If that were true I'm sure the Admiral would have traded you in for a different model years ago. Besides I did my homework. And I know you are always game for a good ride—the wilder the better."

"What homework? Whom did you talk to?"

"I'm sorry counselor, but that's non-discoverable information." He opened the trunk and began to get some of the food and other gear out. "Give me a hand, would you? It will probably take a couple of trips."

She looked at the contents of the trunk. "I think we can do it in one if we load up. How's the arm?"

He smiled as he looked down at his left arm. The cast had finally come off earlier that morning. "It's great. No pain or soreness at all."

"That must feel so good."

"Yeah, it seemed like forever."

Between them they managed to get everything from the car. They walked around the marina and down the length of the boat dock to the last slip where a sleek red powerboat sat in the water. It looked to her to be at least twenty-five feet long.

He stepped into the boat with ease, set down what he was carrying on the deck, took her bags and helped her into the boat.

"Is this yours?" she questioned.

"It's more of a family toy," he replied as he unlocked the door to the galley. "Just something we mess around in on the Sound. Do a little fishing, waterskiing, and just hang out." He turned back towards her. "You don't honestly suffer from motion sickness, do you?"

"No," she smiled. "Otherwise Dad would have traded me in."

"Then you're okay with this?"

"I love the water. And I love going fast on the water." She paused momentarily before challenging, "Think you got enough horsepower in this thing to satisfy me, champ?"

He laughed. "Never had any past complaints," he said with a smirk. "Now, if you'll hand me that stuff, I'll put it away, so we can get on to the business of satisfying your apparent need for speed."

Mac smiled at him with her eyes and began to hand him the groceries and other gear. When she'd retrieved the last bag she joined him down in the galley. There was a table with bench style seating in the bow of the boat as well as a kitchenette with a microwave, sink, small stove and refrigerator. "Wow, this is great."

"It's functional. The table comes out and the area makes into a bed." He turned around and pointed in the opposite direction. "There's another bed right there under the driver's seat and the bathroom is that door on the left at the bottom of the stairs."

"It looks new."

"Got it last April," he said while putting the perishable goods in the refrigerator and the ice in a nearby cooler.

"It's pretty big."

As he stood up to face her, he asked provocatively, "Mackenzie, are you nervous about my ability to handle her?"

She shrugged. "No. Most everything seems to come rather easily to you."

"Not everything," he said with a big smile. "In fact you're rather challenging at times."

Their eyes locked momentarily and in the confined space of the galley, the heat from the sexual tension between them rapidly began to kindle. He made no move to touch her. Instead, he deftly stepped around her and moved to the stairs. Pretending to caress the wall he said over his shoulder, "But when it comes to my handling of this lady, you have nothing to worry about. She's completely responsive."

Mac laughed out loud and followed him back up to the deck.

"Relax for a minute. There's something I need to pick up from the shop." He hopped out of the boat and walked towards the marina. A few steps down the dock he turned and called, "There's a little surprise for you under my jacket on the bed below the driver's seat."

She was momentarily touched by his gesture. Then she remembered Wednesday's gift. "If it's anything like the last present you gave me, Calloway," she called back, "I'm afraid to open it."

Rod grinned. "There are a few similarities. I guess we'll see how brave you are. Now whether you learn what they are… well kiddo, that depends entirely on how brave you are." He turned and walked away.

As intended, her curiosity was piqued. She walked downstairs, moved his jacket and found two wrapped boxes. She picked up the nearest one and shook it. It was bigger and heavier than the sweatshirt had been. But she was still somewhat panicked about opening it. She never knew quite what to expect from him. He continued to constantly surprise her.

She opened the package and found a navy _Helly-Hansen_ jacket with a detachable hood and grey and orange accent colors, a matching pair of grey waterproof pants along with a navy baseball cap. She opened the second box and found a pair of deck shoes in the same colors as her jacket. She was shocked. _How long had he been planning this date? _

She slipped off her shoes and her jeans and pulled on the pants, which had a soft fleece lining–so soft that she could wear them to bed. They fit perfectly in the waist, the hips and miraculously in the length. She put on the shoes and discovered they fit like they were made for her feet only. She threw on the jacket over her sweater and studied herself in the full-length mirror, which hung on the bathroom door. The outfit was incredible and moreover, she looked and felt good in it.

With a big smile, she shut the door and went back to wait for Rod. Once on deck, she breathed in the cool fresh air and surveyed her surroundings. As she gazed across the Sound she let her thoughts wander. _How had he'd known exactly what sizes and styles to get? No matter where they were or what they were doing, he was always mindful of her needs and comfort—always looking out for her. Did he treat past girlfriends the way he treated her? Did he do all this for them? How different was she? He loved her. But was his love for her different from those other girls? And why did he love her? Did he know?_

She sighed and put her hands in the side pockets of her new jacket. _Maybe it didn't matter_, she thought. _Maybe love can't be explained. He'd basically said as much to her that morning on his bed when he'd been sick and they'd been talking about how and why he'd earlier told her that he loved her. Yet she'd loved David; and she'd thought he had loved her, too. In the end that had all been meaningless. So what did Rod's love mean? Did it mean marriage and permanency? A home and a family? Or was it something more transient and unpredictable? He certainly didn't appear to be in any hurry particularly not since their talk on the bleachers. And he'd never made mention of a definite future between them_. She mentally shook herself. _Why was she thinking about this now? Wasn't she the one who'd wanted things just to stay sane and uncomplicated?_

When Rod came back, he found Mackenzie looking out over the water, her hair blowing in the breeze with her back turned and seemingly deep in thought. She was wearing her new gear. He knew instantly that Sue's advice as to size had been perfect, and that Sydney and his mother had done a great job in helping him with the purchasing. Of course, she looked amazing in anything and everything. However, he particularly wanted her to enjoy this afternoon and evening because he loved the water and wanted to share many more days like this with her, both on this boat and on the sailboat.

She turned around and saw him walking towards her with a smile on his face. He was carrying a medium sized Styrofoam cooler. He would hate the description but there was a sweetness and gentleness to him, which at first glance was at odds with his dominating physical size and strength. Yet these seemingly contradictory qualities made him more attractive to her.

"Do you like your surprise?" he asked stepping into the boat and setting the cooler down on the deck.

"I love it," she told him sincerely before adding somewhat provocatively, "The real question is, do _you_ like it?" She turned around slowly. "How do I look?"

Leaning against the side of the boat, he placed his newly freed left hand up to his face with his index finger extended and pretended to study her intently. "You look beautiful," he told her as his eyes again appraised her head to toe. Then raising his eyes to hers, he asked, "So do I get a kiss?"

Mac went to him. She was surprised when he didn't immediately initiate things between them, as was his habit.

He remained half-seated on the side of the boat with his arms at his sides and a look on his face that seemed to say, _"So what are you waiting for?_"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and realized that she'd never been in this position with him before—a position where she needed to lower her head in order to kiss him. She liked it. It gave her a feeling of power and control.

Rod, meanwhile, was finding it exceedingly difficult not to crush her against his chest and kiss her like she'd never been kissed before. However, she believed that their relationship had been too much, too fast. _Were her concerns about him or their relationship or was she simply scared?_ _Fear he could deal with but real doubt was an entirely different thing._ Allowing her the opportunity to come to him was one way he could begin this discovery process. So he waited, anxious to learn how far she would go.

She lowered her head until their lips touched. She expected him to take control. But he didn't. He was responsive but restrained. She decided to explore what it would take to make him lose control. She began to tease him; first by gently biting his lips, and then by leisurely probing the recesses of his mouth with her tongue. She felt him tense beneath her and then shudder. She was getting to him and she liked this feeling, too.

Finally, he could no longer hold back. He fastened his arms around her waist and standing up, instantly reversed their positions. Unable to constrain himself, he forcefully invaded her mouth, hungrily parting her lips.

Surprised by the dramatic change in him and their situation, she stiffened momentarily before relaxing and becoming intoxicated by the scent of him, the enveloping power of his embrace, and the driving need she felt from him as he performed his own feverish exploration of her. They melded together for long minutes, the depth of their passion dominating all conscious, rational thought.

After a time he recognized that perhaps this was not such a good idea. He was on the edge of no return, which was someplace he'd promised himself he would not go. Not until he was certain she was willing and wanting to go there with him. He reluctantly broke their embrace. Upon hearing a small moan escape her lips, he smiled down at her. "That was amazing," he told her while trailing a finger tenderly down the side of her face. "But maybe we better do something else because we're treading in dangerous waters."

She smiled shyly, a blush creeping up her already flushed cheeks. She knew exactly the depth of the water they'd been in; and they'd been in up to their necks.

He saw from her expression that he'd made the right choice. "Let me change and then we can go." Without waiting for a response he turned and walked down the stairs.

She watched him go. _What had she been thinking in losing herself like that? In testing him like that? She was playing with fire._ _Physically it was increasingly difficult getting not to give herself fully to him. She wanted him—more than she'd ever wanted David. Could she risk giving in to that need? The last time she'd given in it had ultimately crushed her. Could she risk such heartache again? And trust what they seemingly had? Trust what he claimed to feel for her?_

Downstairs he took a moment to physically compose himself by breathing deeply and splashing cold water on his face. He'd come so close to carrying her down here and making love to her. But if he forced it now, he risked losing her and that terrified him. He slipped off his shoes and Levi's before quickly pulling on his own navy waterproof pants which, when considering his current physiological predicament, fortunately had a loose fit. He put his deck shoes back on and grabbed his powder blue _Helly-Hansen_ jacket that was accented in navy and red. Although it was sunny and the skies were clear, their boat gear would better protect them from the inevitably cold November wind than.

When he came back up top, Mac was again looking out over the Sound. "Are you ready to go?" he asked from the top of the stairs as he put on his jacket and switched on the boat's blower.

"Absolutely," she said as she turned around to face him. "Wow! You look hot! Like a crew member on an America's Cup team." She loved him in any shade of blue, but particularly light blue.

"That's the idea," he said changing his walk to a strut.

She laughed. He was so cute when he was playfully cocky. "Oh, I forgot to ask. What's in the Styrofoam box?"

"Eels."

"Eels? As in the snake-like things that live in the water? You're joking."

He shook his head. "No."

"Ooh…." Mac made a face. "Yuck! That's disgusting. What are they for?"

"Dinner," he said with a completely straight face.

She looked at him with a questioning expression. "Rod…"

He waited a few second and then grinned. "I'm messing with you. The cooler does contain eels. But they're bait… live bait. So we can catch dinner."

"Ugh…" She scrunched her face. "That's almost as bad. You're not going to make me touch those things, are you?"

He laughed. "Not if you don't want to… and don't worry, I've got gloves. I'll get everything set up and you can just hold the pole. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Good. Let me turn on the batteries and get the engine started then we can shove off and be on our way." Rod lifted up the wide bench-style seat that ran the length of the back of the boat and switched both batteries to the "On" position. He put the keys in the ignition and started the engines before climbing out of the boat and untying the rear rope and buoy, tossing the buoy into the boat afterwards. He did the same with the front rope and buoy and then walked the boat out of the slip, jumping on the bow at the end of the dock as he pushed the boat into the channel. He walked quickly and deftly along the side ledge on the starboard side, climbed into the driver's seat, took the engines out of neutral, and started them moving forward in a wake less speed.

Mac keenly watched him do all this with interest. She was amazed with how smoothly and effortlessly he got them underway.

When he turned around to locate her, he found her watching him with a whimsical expression. "Come sit with me." He patted the seat next to him. "But would you do me a favor first?"

"Sure."

"Pick up the buoys and put them under the back seat so they don't blow away once we get going."

Mac nodded and did as he asked before joining him on the driver's seat, which was more than wide enough for the two of them.

As the path ahead was clear and they, by law, were at a wake less speed, he took a minute to study her as she sat next to him looking around the harbor.

She felt his eyes on her and shifted her position to look at him. "What?"

"Nothing. Making sure you're okay. You know…"

"Roderic, I'm fine… more than fine."

"Good." He smiled and sighed a little. He was relieved. He'd been trying so hard to do what she wanted and not rush things—until they'd kissed. "Do you want to know what I have planned for the rest of the afternoon and evening? Or do you want to continue to be surprised?"

"Tell me, please. I hate not knowing what's going on."

"I know you do." Keeping one eye on where he was going and one eye on her, he elaborated, "First I thought we'd head down to the lighthouse on Fayerweather Island, walk around and explore its history. Next I thought we'd look for a good fishing hole and see if we can't catch a few striped bass for dinner. Sound okay?"

"Great. So long as you promise I won't have to touch or look at those eels." Mac involuntarily shivered. "Too creepy."

Rod chuckled softly. Occasionally she was such a girl. "I promise. How do you feel about fish?"

"Fish I can look at and eat. But don't expect me to gut them or clean them."

"Fair enough. Do you want to hear about my favorite part of the date?" he asked.

"Oh yeah." Mackenzie loved it when his voice took on this flirtatious, seductive quality.

"I thought we'd finish the day by finding a sandy, westward facing beach where we can build a fire, cook dinner and watch the sunset. " He raised his eyebrows suggestively at her and with a smile, removed his sunglasses from the collar of his shirt and put them on.

Mac laughed but then sighed. "How long have you been planning this?" Today was not something he could have set up on short notice.

"I'm afraid that's non-discoverable information, too, counselor," he answered lightly as he simultaneously pushed both throttles full forward indicating they'd reached open water. He moved forward, half sitting and half standing against the seat so he could better survey the water ahead. Though he was tall, the bow of the boat was long and he liked being above it all when he was at the wheel.

The increased hum of the engines now made conversation between them difficult. She moved behind him, almost straddling him with her legs. She leaned into him from behind and placed her left arm around his neck and her right one around his waist. It felt almost like he was giving her a piggyback ride. She reveled in his masculinity and the feel of his hard body pressed against hers as he formed an additional barrier for her against the cold. She leaned her head around his right shoulder so she could enjoy the view and the exhilarating sense of freedom that always overcame her when moving fast across the water. As she felt the sun on her face, Mac realized her sunglasses were in her bag down in the galley. She couldn't be bothered with getting them out. Sitting like this was too satisfying to contemplate moving. Instead she simply closed her eyes and basked in the sensation of the wind and sun in her face, and Rod's warmth enveloping the rest of her.

He hadn't dared say anything to her, but he'd hoped that once they were really underway she would position herself like she had. In fact, it was fulfillment of a life-long fantasy for him: A peaceful autumn afternoon in a fast boat on the Sound with a cool breeze blowing, clear skies overhead, and the woman he loved curled up next to him. He reached down with his left hand and began to rub her thigh. It felt so good to finally get rid of the cast. He looked down at her over his right shoulder just as she, having felt the added contact between them, opened her eyes and looked up at him. They each smiled. And he knew from the look of pure contentment on her face she understood deep in her soul what being out here meant to him, and that she felt the same.

XXXXXXXXXX

Thirty minutes later they arrived at the lighthouse. He again slowed to a wake less speed and stood up. He raised the height of the engines and activated his depth finder to aid him in finding a suitable place to dock.

When he stood up, Mackenzie slid back over to her side of the seat and tried to tame her windblown hair. She looked around. "This is beautiful."

"You haven't been here before?"

"No, my parents only moved here a couple of years ago and other than occasional weekends spent mostly around home, I haven't spent much time in Bridgeport or seen much of the surrounding area."

"Good. Then it will be something new for both of us." He continued to check the depth finder and survey the shoreline for a place to pull in. "Mac, would you move over to the other side and look and see how deep the water appears over that way." He pointed out to her the area he was talking about. "You may need to stand up in order to properly see it."

"Aye Aye, Captain," she told him with a mock salute as she moved to the port side of the boat. After a minute or two of scanning the water, she said, "It looks fairly deep up over here. I think it would work." They were coming in at an angle perpendicular to the shore.

Rod put the boat in neutral and went to where she stood. He looked into the water. It appeared to be a promising place to dock. He momentarily climbed up on the exterior ledge that ran the length of the boat in order to get an even higher perspective and found that she was right. As he climbed down, he gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Great call, honey… You make an exceptional First Mate."

His heartbeat momentarily quickened when he saw her blush at this suggestion. He couldn't resist giving her an ardent—but quick—kiss, before going back to work.

Mackenzie wasn't quite sure how seriously to take his suggestion. All she knew was that his words combined with his kiss caused her to feel instantly heated and almost breathless. And as she couldn't find the words to respond, she sat down in the back of the boat and watched him work.

He docked the boat, put out an anchor off the side of the boat, and secured the bow by tying a rope around a nearby boulder. While he secured the boat, Mac finally retrieved her sunglasses. He helped her off the front of the boat, and the two of them walked around the lighthouse and read about its history and restoration.

Afterwards they began skipping rocks across the water. Being a former pitcher, he had a natural side arm motion that he tried to teach Mackenzie. However, while his rocks would consistently skip 6-8 times before finally sinking, her rocks immediately sank into the Sound like they were filled with lead. He laughed at how much this bothered her and how much she hated it when he teased her about throwing like a girl. Mackenzie Spencer Allen was not accustomed to failure on any level; and he enjoyed watching the determination and focus she now directed towards mastering even something as small and insignificant as this game. When finally she managed to skip a rock four times they celebrated like she'd won the World Series. Hand in hand, they laughed all the way back to the boat.

When back on the water, he let her drive. He showed her how to take the engines out of neutral and about how to keep the throttles in the same position so they wouldn't drift unnaturally to the left or right. He also taught her how to use the trim tabs to keep the bow down and the boat level, along with how to turn into the waves at a good angle.

She'd spent some time on powerboats but she'd never driven before. Almost immediately she realized how fun and liberating it was to control such a machine. She mimicked the driving position Rod had earlier chosen, and moved forward until she was leaning against rather than sitting on the seat. This new position gave her a feeling of even greater control. She turned and saw Rod watching her with eager interest. She motioned him to come closer to her and when he did, she said, "I love this feeling of power."

"There's a surprise," he mocked.

Mac pretended to stare him down.

The predictability in her response caused him to laugh without forgetting his role as navigator. "Stay on the right side of on-coming traffic," he reminded her, "and I'll guide you to a good fishing spot I know."

Twenty minutes later they stopped to fish. He took out a couple of poles, baited the hooks with eels and cast them into the water.

She had turned away from him while he messed with the eels.

"You can turn around and open your eyes now. The big bad eels are out of sight." He couldn't help but chuckle at her reaction to them. His chuckle turned into a hearty laugh when he saw the glare she gave him in return. "Come here."

Mac went to him, but she didn't change her look.

"I can't help it. Your reaction's funny and unexpected. You're not usually such a girl."

"What do you mean? I'm always a girl."

He shook his head. "No, you're always a woman. There's a big difference."

Their eyes locked and slowly the look on her face changed to a smile.

"Here," he said handing her a pole. They were tucked in a quiet inlet not too far from the shore.

As they waited for the fish to bite, they talked. "Do you want to hear about one of my earliest fishing memories out here?" he asked.

She loved hearing stories about him as a little boy. "Sure."

"Well, I was out here in a boat about this size with Dad and Papa. I had received a fishing pole from Papa and Nana for my fifth birthday and I was dying to try it out."

She remembered how almost hyper he'd been about getting out of the condo after his fever broke. She could picture him as a little boy driving the adults crazy until they took him out here.

"I insisted on holding the pole all by myself and I was adamant about sitting on the side of the boat with my legs dangling over the edge. And I wouldn't budge. I was absolutely stubborn about what I wanted to do."

Thinking about him arguing with his Dad and grandfather until they gave in made her smile.

"Now, Dad and Papa knew exactly what would happen if I managed to hook a big fish; in fact, I think they genuinely hoped that it would happen. Well, they got their wish… I hooked a big fish. It put up a struggle. I fought back. But it won and I ended up in the Sound still holding onto the pole until I'd been dragged by that thing a good fifteen yards. I took in so much seawater that I coughed for at least an hour afterwards. And the worst thing of all was that damn fish not only got away but he took my new pole with him."

"Tough lesson for a little guy, huh?"

"Yeah," Rod agreed. "I cried about losing that pole for months. And though I begged and begged, they didn't get me a new one until Christmas. I guarded it with my life. I think that I slept with it for a while."

Mac smiled but then turned serious. "You don't show that stubborn streak very often—at least not that I've seen."

Meeting her questioning gaze, he told her, "Trust me. It's still there. Ask my parents and grandmother—especially my father. But I do try and keep it chained up in a box except for when it comes to things that really matter."

She nodded and almost immediately felt a big tug on her line. "I think I've got something," she told him turning her full attention to her pole.

"Great." He anchored his own pole between the side of the boat and the back seat and went to her. "Okay, let's see what you've got." He stood on the back seat and looked into the water. "It looks like a big one!"

"I can tell," Mac said wryly. "It's really fighting."

Climbing down, he moved towards her. "Bring it in slow."

She did as he directed, pleased he didn't turn try to do it for her. Rather he stood to her side and slightly behind with his hand against the small of her back, giving her words of encouragement and advice when he thought she needed them.

Finally after long minutes had passed, she managed to get the fish almost fully out of the water. Exhausted, she'd been about to give up. With excitement, she saw that it was indeed a big one.

He had the net in his hand and was about to reach around her to grab the fish as she continued to raise it out of the water. However, suddenly a bigger fish jumped out and ate all but the head of her fish.

She was so surprised by what happened that she let go of the pole and jumped backwards. Losing her balance, she stepped on his foot. He, too, lost his balance and landed on his backside on the deck with her virtually on top of him, both of them losing their sunglasses in the process.

After the initial shock of their fall faded and they were again breathing, they began to laugh hysterically while still lying on the deck with her head now against his chest. Eventually she raised her head and commented, "Looks like you're going to need another new pole."

Their eyes met and their laughter very quickly turned to something else entirely. He cupped the back of her head with his hand and brought her to him. As they kissed the passion between them instantly ignited and very quickly they were again playing with fire.

She reluctantly pulled away and said teasingly, "So champ, what are we having for dinner now that my fish got eaten?"

"Well, we could always eat the rest of the eels…" he replied as he started to laugh again which, of course, started her laughing, too. "Honey," he finally said through their laughter, "I think we'd better get up because I don't know how far we might have drifted and we could run ashore any minute… and that would be bad." He pushed her hair away from her face and gave her one last lingering kiss before helping her up.

He checked out their position. Fortunately, the wind had been blowing them away from the shore. He went to the driver's console and turned on the blower. Then he turned to her and said, "I think I've had enough fishing for one afternoon, how about you?"

"That's an understatement," she said dryly as she picked up their sunglasses, which had remarkably survived intact.

He walked back to where the Styrofoam cooler sat on the corner of the deck. "Should we let these things go? Or would you like to take them home as pets?"

She put on her glasses. "Set them free, Calloway… set them free."

He emptied the remaining eels into the water. "How about we find us a nice piece of beach, cook a little dinner and watch the sunset?" Unbeknownst to Mackenzie, he had previously scouted out the perfect spot on the perfect beach for them to build a fire and watch the sunset.

"Sounds perfect," she said handing him his sunglasses. "I'm starved."

"Do you want to drive or should I?"

"You do it. I want to use you to block the wind."

"Is that all I'm good for?" he teased.

She pretended to think. "You might prove useful for a few other activities."

"If you only knew just how useful…" He whispered softly to her in passing as he put on his glasses and returned to the driver's seat. Once he started the engines, he turned around. "Are you coming?"

"Oh yeah…" she said still feeling the heat in her cheeks. She positioned herself behind him and slightly to the right—just as she had done before. Only this time she held on to him tighter, putting her hands in the side pockets of his jacket.

After he got them settled at a comfortable speed, he again began to rub her leg with his free hand.

She sighed deeply. She couldn't remember being this content in a long time.

He smiled when he heard and felt her contentedly sigh.

XXXXXXXXXX

Within an hour they were seated on a blanket on the beach, cooking chicken and vegetable kabobs over an open fire with long skewers. While he had built the fire in front of a couple of huge rocks with charcoal and firewood he'd placed on the boat the day before, she'd prepared the kabobs, fresh fruit and French bread, which they toasted on coals wrapped in tinfoil. While the kabobs cooked, they became lost in their individual thoughts. However, there was no awkwardness in the silence, only pleasant companionship.

Thinking of the afternoon brought a smile to her face. She'd had no idea what to expect from it or him when they'd left New Haven, except maybe an afternoon at the movies before dinner somewhere in Bridgeport. And yet again, he'd surprised her completely. She never could have predicted this day—so easy, so intimate and yet so fun. He'd been thoughtful, playful, supportive, passionate and incredibly loving. She couldn't help but wonder how many times in the past he'd done this with other girls. She'd seen in his eyes and felt in his countenance how much he loved being out on the open water… in something bigger and faster than a skull boat. He had to have shared similar times with others.

Rod, meanwhile, was relieved their attempt at fishing had failed. He hadn't wanted to clean and gut any fish tonight. But he thought she might enjoy the sport of it; and he'd craved the intimate, quiet time together he knew fishing would inevitably provide them. Of course, in his wildest dreams he couldn't have imagined the events of the day—how she'd curled up against him with her hands in his pockets and how they'd ended up lying on the deck, laughing hysterically one minute and feverishly making out the next. This could be a time they would look back on with fondness for years to come… if only she would trust what they had and what together they could be.

Once the kabobs were cooked, he held the skewers while she removed their contents onto two plates, already filled with fruit. He knocked the bread off of the coals. She put a piece on her plate and a couple of pieces on his while poured them cups of sparkling cider. They positioned themselves close together against one of the rocks in front of the fire and began to eat. The sun was setting low over the watery horizon and the sky was filling with vibrant shades of reds, oranges and pinks.

Mac sighed. "This is heavenly."

"Yes, it is…" he agreed.

"I have to admit that I was puzzled by some of your food choices at the grocery store." She couldn't understand the connection between lemons, flour, butter, Cajun spices, milk and tarter sauce with chicken, mushrooms, tomatoes, red and green peppers.

"I know. I saw the looks you were giving me," he teased back. "Does it make sense now?"

"Except for the milk. But I am surprised you didn't get a cheesecake."

"Oh, I have something else planned for dessert," he told her silkily.

She gave him a questioning look out of the corner of one eye. "I didn't see you buy anything like that…"

"That's because it was already on the boat," he informed her. "Can't give away all my secrets at once." He put down his now empty plate and reached for a couple of more logs, which he threw on the fire. "Come here and let me hold you while we watch the sunset. Then I'll get out your chocolate surprise."

"How can I refuse that offer." She put down her plate and scooted over into his arms. When she tilted her head to look at him, he was gazing down at her. "So you know," she heard him say in almost a whisper, "there's nothing I want more than to make love to you." He bent his head and kissed her with a tantalizing feather-light touch.

She didn't say anything but she smiled warmly at him and turned in his arms until her head was resting on his shoulder, tucked slightly under his chin. She rested her right hand on his leg, lightly caressing it.

He turned her hand over and intertwined the fingers of his right hand in hers. They silently sat like this listening to the crackling of their small campfire until long after the sun had fallen beneath the horizon and the vivid colors, which had painted the western sky, faded to black.

Eventually, he broke the silence. "Are you ready for dessert?"

"Hmm… sounds good."

"I'll be right back."

She moved out of his arms and watched him pick up some of their dishes and carry them to the boat. Within minutes, however, he had returned carrying a plastic grocery bag. "What have you got there?"

"Look and see." He handed her the bag.

She opened it and found graham crackers, marshmallows, chocolate bars and the mysterious milk. "Smores?"

"Smores." He took the bag of marshmallows and began to place a few on a couple of the skewers that he'd washed in the boat.

She opened the graham crackers. "I haven't had these in years."

"Me, too. But I figured we couldn't have a campfire without smores… and you can't have smores without milk."

She laughed, but had to admit there was method to his madness.

He roasted the marshmallows while she prepared the chocolate and graham crackers and poured them each a cup of milk. Within a few minutes they were gorging themselves on their hot dessert and laughing over childhood marshmallow memories and how messy smores were at any age.

He put another couple of logs on the fire. It was getting cold outside. "Warm enough?"

Mac nodded. "Thank you. Between the fire and my new boat gear, I'm great."

"Good. That was the plan." He again leaned against the rock.

After a few minutes of silence, she turned to face him. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

She took a deep breath. "What were the girls—the women—like you dated before?"

He was surprised. He hadn't expected this question from her. "You really want me to tell you about my past relationships?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "I'm just curious."

"Are you ready to tell me about your past relationships?"

"They have nothing to do with us," she answered insistently, a hint of sharpness in her voice.

Rod didn't believe her. He'd seen the pain lurking deep in her soul the night she'd stayed with him; and he'd personally experienced how difficult it was for her to trust. "I think you're wrong."

"I don't want to talk about it." She began to move away.

He grabbed her by the hand.

She looked at him.

"What is it you want to know? Am I a virgin?" he teased.

She didn't answer.

"No, I'm not. But I don't sleep around, and I've never had unprotected sex. Have you?"

"No."

"So we're on equal footing there." He looked at her closely. Then he again took her hand. "Talk to me. Tell me what this is about? What's bothering you?"

"Rod, I see the girls you study with and the looks you get around school. I know your reputation."

"And you've been told you're not my type."

She remained silent but momentarily looked away.

He studied her. _How long had this been bothering her?_ He knew who'd been filling her head with these questions and doubts. "Mac," he told her gently, "if you're asking if you're different… the answer is yes."

His words got her attention.

He placed a hand tenderly on her chin and brought her face up to meet his own. "It's not something to fear." He removed his hand and shifted slightly on the blanket. "Let me ask you a question."

"Okay." _How could she deny him that same opportunity? It wouldn't be fair_. But she was afraid of what disclosure he might demand from her.

"Are you exactly the same person you were years ago?

_Is that it?_ She wondered. "No, of course not," she admitted.

"Well, neither am I," he told her with a small smile. "Listen to me. You are the only woman I've ever loved. There is no one else for me—not in my head and not in my heart. You are the only one I want to be with… and I'm hoping that's what you want, too."

"It is." Comforted by the raw emotion and sincerity she'd felt in his words, she smiled. She wasn't exactly sure what it meant for their long-term futures but she'd worry about that later.

He smiled, too. "Mac, I know it's your father's birthday this weekend and that's why you came home. But I would like it if you came with me tomorrow morning to Sydney's soccer game and then to lunch with my family. I want them to meet you and I want you to meet them. Maybe then, you'll understand just how serious I am about us, and what you mean to me. I promise that I'll have you back home by mid-afternoon."

"I'd like that. But I do need to check with my parents first to make sure they haven't made other plans."

He nodded. "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah… I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's part of figuring things out. I'd much rather we talked than didn't."

"You're right." She leaned towards him and gently ran her fingers through the back of his hair. "Thank you for today… I mean, for everything about it. It's been wonderful."

"Yes, it has." He looked at her and was relieved to again see happiness emitting from her eyes. He also saw fatigue. "You look tired and we'd probably better start back in."

"Okay."

He stood up and offered her a hand in doing the same. Leaving the fire temporarily burning, they carried the blanket and the rest of the stuff back to the boat.

He climbed on first, took everything from her and put it in the galley through the hatch on the bow of the boat. He then helped her up and turned on the blower and the boat's exterior lights before raising the anchor he'd thrown off the side. Then he jumped off the boat, put out the fire and picked up the anchor and rope he'd used to secure the bow. Placing them on the front of the boat, he pushed them away from the shore and climbed on board. Opening the hatch, he handed the anchor and rope down to Mackenzie, who'd started to clean up in the galley. Afterwards he climbed back into the driver's seat, started the engines and put them in reverse until they were out in the open channel.

"Are you ready to go?" he called down from the top of the stairs.

"Almost… give me about two minutes," she told him peeking around the corner so she could look at him.

"Okay. You might find it warmer and more comfortable down there."

She shook her head. "I want to be with you."

Those were just the words he needed to here. "That's my girl. But you might want to put your cap on because the wind will be stronger tonight."

While he waited for her to join him, he studied the sky and the stars, looking for the few constellations he was familiar with—like the big dipper. He was glad the moon was almost full and cast a fair amount of light on the water. The exterior lights of the boat were good but the natural light from the moon would help, too.

Once Mackenzie joined him, he took the engines out of neutral and they started back at a slightly slower speed than they'd used during the daylight hours. But it was fast enough to make conversation between them virtually impossible.

The temperature had dropped and the wind had strengthened. So this time, she placed herself directly behind him, with her hat on backwards, her hands again in his pockets to keep them warm, and her body fully pressed against his back. Closing her eyes, she relaxed against him. She loved this position she'd discovered today—loved feeling his strength and knowing his body was shielding hers.

He, too, loved having her hands against his waist and her body wrapped around him. At the same time, it was getting increasingly difficult for him to exercise control and not make love to her. He wanted her to a degree that it physically hurt. He mentally shook himself. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to focus only on getting them safely back to the marina. The rest would take care of itself.

XXXXXXXXXX

Approximately ninety minutes later, Rod pulled the Porsche into the Allen driveway. He glanced over at Mackenzie who was asleep. She'd been putting in long hours at school. He reached over and ran a finger lovingly down the side of her face. "Hey sleepyhead… you're home."

She opened her eyes. "Sorry… didn't mean to drift off like that."

"It's okay. We had a busy day," he told her indulgently. "I'll get your bag out of the trunk."

"Thanks."

He removed her duffel bag and by that time she was standing in the driveway. He walked her to the door.

For a moment there was almost a teenage awkwardness between them as they stood on her parents' porch for the first time. Finally, she asked somewhat hesitantly, "Do you want to come in?"

"I'd love to… but you're going to collapse any minute and I know your parents are anxious to see you. You'll talk to them about tomorrow and call me?"

"First thing," she promised him. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to go with him in the morning.

He took a couple of steps towards her and placed his hands on her waist. Looking down into her eyes, he said, "It was a great day. Thank you for sharing it with me."

"Me, too," she told him softly.

He took another step towards her and bent his head forward.

Instinctively Mac, too, lowered her head until their foreheads touched. She was surprised that she instantly felt the same rich, deep range of emotions she had felt when they'd earlier done this outside his condo. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard him again softly say, "I love you." In response, she brought her lips in line with their foreheads and kissed him. She felt his arms tighten around her as he deepened their connection. Eventually, she broke away but with a big smile.

He walked her the remaining distance to the door and, handing her the duffel bag, told her, "Sweet dreams."

"You, too."

"You'll call me about tomorrow?"

"As soon as possible."

He nodded and began walking back to his car.

"Rod," she called out.

He turned around.

"Thank you," she told him, her voice full of feeling.

Their eyes locked and he grinned. Then with a wink in her direction he turned back and got into his car.

With a sigh, Mackenzie watched him leave before going inside. _What a perfect day_, she thought as she opened the door.


	26. Family Affairs

**26. Family Affairs**

Kate and Michael Allen were playing Gin Rummy over coffee in the kitchen when they heard the front door open. Their eyes locked. They laughed as they recognized something familiar in the other's gaze, and realized that each of them had been listening intently for that particular sound. By unspoken agreement they immediately set down their cards and quickly walked into the foyer.

As Kate entered the room, she spotted her daughter leaning against the door with her eyes closed. Mackenzie was wearing sailing gear and an expression of peace and happiness that had been missing from her countenance for a long time. Kate and Michael worried about their only daughter—not professionally or academically, but personally, and particularly since her return from Jerusalem. They knew she'd suffered severe heartbreak there. Yet all Mackenzie would confess was that a relationship hadn't worked out like she'd expected; and then she had never spoken of it again. But it had changed her. Now, nearly three years later, Kate was seeing a glimpse of the old Mac. However, as she silently studied her daughter more closely, she concluded that she'd never seen her daughter look this contented. She felt something deep tug at her heartstrings as a smile spread over her face. And when she heard Michael's sharp intake of breath and felt his hand squeeze her shoulder, she knew he was witnessing the same.

Mackenzie opened her eyes and was surprised to be greeted by two smiling parents staring at her from across the hall. With a twinkle in her eyes she asked, "You two weren't waiting up, were you?"

"Who us?" Michael answered innocently. "We were playing cards and happened to hear you come in."

"That's your story, huh?"

"Absolutely." He went to her and hugged her tight. He hadn't seen her in three months because of training assignments in the Pacific. And even though she was a grown woman, he was glad he wouldn't be going away again until the latter part of January. "Welcome home, baby," he told her as he released her.

"Thanks, Daddy. Welcome home to you, too." Mac leaned around him. "Hi, Mom."

"Are you hungry?"

"No." Mac smiled at her mom's traditional homecoming greeting. "Rod and I had a good dinner and then ate too many smores."

"Smores?" Michael asked. "In late November?"

"Yeah," Mac answered wistfully.

"When did you add boat gear to your wardrobe?" Kate wondered aloud.

Mac looked down at her clothes. She'd forgotten what she was wearing. It was so comfortable. "I didn't…. Rod did. He surprised me. I don't know how he knew just what to get, but he did. He got the cast off his arm this morning. We spent the afternoon boating, skipping rocks and fishing on the Sound. Later we found a beach, built a fire, cooked dinner and watched the sun set…."

Though Mackenzie wasn't aware of the change in her voice or the look of pure serenity that came over her face as she spoke about her date, her parents instantly recognized the transformation. Peripherally they glanced at each other with a subtle and easy understanding established over thirty-six years together. Their daughter was unmistakably in love. They were both overjoyed and afraid. They hadn't met Rod yet. And they didn't know if he was worthy of, or the right fit, for their only child.

"Oh, I forgot," Mac, continued, "Do we have plans for tomorrow morning? Rod invited me to go with him to his sister's soccer game and to have lunch with his family. But I told him I needed to check with you first. He said that we could be back by early afternoon. It's up to you Dad… you're the one who is having the birthday."

"Would you like to go with him?" Michael asked almost rhetorically.

"Yeah… I really would," Mackenzie answered sedately.

"Then tell him 'yes.'" Michael paused. "And actually that will work out great because tomorrow is supposed to be a warm day and I'd love to get in a round or two of golf." In truth, he'd already put a foursome together and secured a couple of tee-times. He just hadn't broken the news to Kate yet. And now, he could simply use Mac's plans as an excuse. _Happy Birthday to me_, he thought.

Looking at her husband and then their daughter, Kate realized yet again how very similar they were. "Why do I get the feeling that the two of you have some sort of conspiracy up your sleeves to disrupt my plans?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Mom," Mac responded innocently.

"Yeah, Mom," Michael mimicked.

"Okay," Kate conceded. Then pointing a playful finger at both father and daughter she added, "But I want both of you home no later than 5 p.m. because I have party plans for tomorrow night."

Both Michael and Mackenzie laughed but then readily agreed.

"Would the two of you mind if I called it a night?" Mac asked. "I want to call Rod to tell him I can go tomorrow." She picked up her purse and duffel bag and moved towards the stairs.

"Good night, baby." Michael walked over to her, gave her a kiss on the cheek and a playful tap on the nose. "Sweet dreams."

"Night, Daddy." Mac climbed a couple of steps and then turned around and looked down at both of her parents. "It's good to be home. Love you both."

"We love you, too," Kate answered with a smile as she joined Michael at the bottom of the stairs, and he put his arm around her shoulders.

As Mackenzie went upstairs, Kate and Michael smiled as they watched her go. Afterwards they returned to the kitchen to resume their game. However, neither of them was really interested in continuing. After a couple of minutes, Kate asked, "How would you feel about issuing an additional invitation for your birthday dinner?"

"If you are referring to the young man who is responsible for the peculiar looks on our daughter's face tonight, then I'd say it's an absolute necessity. It's long past time we checked this young man out. I want to know whether I need to kill him or if locking her in a very tall tower will suffice."

XXXXXXXX

Rod was nervous and excited as he approached Mackenzie's family home the next morning. He was excited to see her and to introduce her to his family. He'd worried all the way home last night that he'd made a mistake in inviting her, that maybe once she was inside she'd think he was still pushing her too hard, too fast. He couldn't remember being more relieved than he'd been when she'd finally called saying she wanted to come with him this morning. But now he was incredibly nervous about the possibility of meeting her parents… especially the Admiral. His palms were sweaty and he again felt like an awkward, tongue-tied, lovesick teenager. Giving himself a silent pep talk, he took a deep breath, cleared his throat and rang the doorbell.

"Rod," Kate Allen said warmly as she opened the door, "please come in." She was struck immediately by his height. Mackenzie had told her that he was tall, but she hadn't expected him to be this tall or to possess such a dominating physical presence.

"Thank you, Mrs. Allen." Rod joined her inside the house. He'd seen photographs of her parents but considering Mac's height, he'd somehow expected her mother to be taller.

"Please call me Kate. Let's sit down in the living room. Mackenzie should be down any minute."

"Thank you," Rod said eyeing the stairs, as he followed her to a room left of the foyer and took a seat on one of the couches.

"It's about time we got acquainted," Kate told him. "And I haven't had the opportunity to thank you personally for the opera and play tickets. The roses were also beautiful. They brightened up our rooms and put a big smile on Mackenzie's face every time she looked at them or enjoyed their fragrant scent." Kate noticed immediately that the mention of her daughter caused a proud yet tender and protective look to appear on his face. Observing this instinctive reaction in him warmed her heart and created an immediate bond between them.

"It was my pleasure, ma'am. I'm glad you both enjoyed them. I missed her and wanted her to know she was constantly on my mind." He'd decided not to play games with her parents but instead to make his intentions relating to their daughter clear and unmistakable.

Kate nodded with a smile. "Mackenzie said you had a great day yesterday out on the Sound."

"Yes ma'am, we did." Rod sighed thinking about it. He'd been almost too excited to sleep last night. It had felt like Christmas Eve when he was a boy and morning couldn't come soon enough.

Kate was thrilled to see that such a simple reminder of yesterday brought out a look of deep contentment from him, too.

Just then Michael strolled into the room, dressed for a late autumn round of golf. First thing this morning, he'd changed his tee-time so he could meet young Calloway. He'd observed his daughter's behavior the previous night; and he'd seen and heard about the gifts this boy had bestowed on her. He was anxious to learn if there was any substance behind the flash.

Rod saw him first, and given the man's intimidating stature, he had to fight back that awkward, nervous feeling again. He immediately stood and moved towards him. "Good morning, sir… and Happy Birthday." Looking at Michael, Rod now understood where Mackenzie got her height, her expressive brown eyes, and ultimately her smile.

Michael extended a hand in greeting. "Thank you, Rod. But please call me Michael." He, too, was struck by Rod's size. But he was more impressed with his composure. In the past Mac's boyfriends had been intimidated by him, had avoided conversation with him, and couldn't wait to end their meeting. And he, of course, had encouraged such reactions. However, Rod had looked him squarely in the eye and had taken his hand with firmness and a quiet confidence. Moreover, he appeared to be in no hurry to go anywhere.

"It's good to meet you, sir. I've heard so much about you."

"You, too." Taking a seat next to his wife, Michael gestured for Rod to sit back down.

Rod did as he was commanded and took a seat opposite his prospective in-laws. He wondered how much they knew about his relationship with Mackenzie and how they felt about it. She was, after all, their only child. "Thank you for allowing me to borrow Mackenzie for a few hours on your birthday. My family is looking forward to meeting her."

"Not at all," Michael said nonchalantly. "You're actually doing me a favor. This way I can get one last day of golf in before the ground freezes without being hassled by the women of the house." He winked at Kate. "Do you play?"

"Yes, sir. But not as often as my father would like. Growing up, baseball first and then basketball were my real passions. And even today, I must admit that I much prefer basketball."

"How's the arm?" Kate asked. "Mac told us that the cast came off yesterday."

"Yes, ma'am," Rod said while instinctively flexing and rotating his left hand and arm. "It's all healed and feels good. Thank you for asking." However, the sight of Mackenzie walking down the stairs, wearing jeans and a navy v-neck sweater that fit her perfectly, distracted him. As usual, he felt his breath catch. It pleased him to see she was carrying her new _Helly-Hansen_ jacket. He couldn't help but smile at her and he couldn't take his eyes off her.

Mac's face also broke into a smile when she saw him looking at her from the living room with a cute, toothy grin and a warm, attentive look in his eyes. He was wearing Levi's, a cream fisherman sweater and _Cole Haan_ loafers. As her body temperature instantaneously increased and her heart rate quickened, she was again hit by the realization of how strong and deep her attraction was to him. Would it always be like this? When she reached the bottom step, she draped her jacket and purse over the banister.

When she walked into the room, Rod stood and went to her. "Good morning," he told her warmly as he kissed her on the cheek.

"Good morning to you, too," she answered affectionately. "I see you've met my parents." She pretended to look him over. "You don't look worse for the experience."

He laughed and watched her approach her parents, who were now standing and watching them with keen interest.

"Good morning, baby," Michael told her warmly as he, too, kissed her on the cheek.

"I thought you had an early tee-time," she teased.

"It got pushed back."

"Unavoidably, I'm sure," she told him dryly.

Michael laughed. "Of course."

"Hi, Mom." Mac turned her attention to Kate.

"Did you sleep well?"

"Yes, Mom." She also kissed her mother on the cheek.

"I hate to run," Michael told them collectively, "but I've got to leave if I going to make my tee-time."

Michael turned towards Rod. "I don't know if you're free, but Kate and I would like it very much if you would join us for dinner this evening." Michael had to admit that so far he'd been impressed with young Calloway. He was also curious to learn more about him and to closely observe his interaction with Mackenzie.

Before answering, Rod looked at Mac; and when she nodded at him, he told Michael, "Thank you for the invitation. I'd be honored, sir."

"Good. Kate will fill you in on all the details." Michael kissed his wife and daughter on the cheek, and again shook Rod's hand before leaving.

"Will 6:30 p.m. work for you?" Kate asked Rod.

"Perfectly."

"Good." Kate nodded. "Now can I get the two of you breakfast?"

Mac looked at Rod. "We probably don't have time, do we?"

He looked at his watch. "Unfortunately not." He turned to her mother. "Kate, can we get a rain check on breakfast? It's just that I promised my sister we'd get there before the game started and I don't want to disappoint her."

"Of course," Kate told him. "You two run along and I'll see both of you this evening."

"Thanks, Mom. I should be home by mid-afternoon to help you get ready for the party."

Rod had picked up her jacket and purse from the stairs. Handing her the purse, he asked Mackenzie, "Do you want to wear your jacket or just bring it."

"Let's bring it."

"Okay." Carrying her jacket, he walked across the hall and opened the door. Before following her out, he looked to Mac's mother. "Thank you, Kate." Somehow he instinctively knew that he'd found an ally.

Kate winked at him. "Have a good time today and we'll see you tonight."

Once they were outside, Rod took Mackenzie's hand as they walked to his car. He opened her door and put her jacket behind the passenger seat. However, before she got into the car, he took her in his arms and kissed her, gently at first but then with increasing emotion and desire. Afterwards, he told her, "I've been dying to do that all morning."

She sighed contentedly. "Me, too."

XXXXXXXX

Thirty minutes later they pulled into the Greenwich High School parking lot that was adjacent to the soccer field. Sydney's team was the number one seed and had earned home field advantage throughout the play-offs.

Rod had noticed that Mackenzie had grown increasingly quiet the closer they got to Greenwich. Before they exited the car he turned towards her and asked, "Mac, you're not nervous, are you?"

"Nervous and excited and a whole host of other emotions," she admitted.

He laughed. "I'm glad that I'm not the only one feeling those things this morning. I hardly slept last night. You should have seen how sweaty my palms were when I arrived at your doorstep. I swear my hand was actually shaking as I rang the doorbell and I had to clear my throat about a dozen times to keep my voice from cracking. Trust me, meeting the Admiral is far more scary and intimidating than meeting my family."

"Thanks for the reminder." She leaned across and kissed him on the mouth.

"You're welcome."

Mac took a deep breath. "Let's do this."

Rod got out and was walking in front of the car on his way to open Mac's door when Alexandra came running over to him. "Hey, sis," he said as he put his arm around her and kissed her on the forehead.

"We thought you'd never get here," she told him.

"What are you talking about? We're not even late yet."

"I know. But Syd needs a pep talk from you and we all want to meet Mackenzie."

"Well, I guess we'd better get to it then."

Mac watched this intimate exchange with interest. For some reason his sister looked familiar to her.

Rod opened her door and helped her out. Then bringing his sister into their circle, he told her affectionately, "Mackenzie, this is my sister, Alexandra or Alex for short."

"Hi, Alex. It's nice to meet you finally. I've heard so much about all of you."

"We've heard a lot about you, too." Alex gestured towards Rod. "He can't stop talking about you, thinking about you, and he gets this pitiful puppy dog look on his face whenever anyone mentions your name."

Mac laughed.

"Thank you very much," Rod said tickling Alex. "I thought you were supposed to be on my side."

Mac studied brother and sister closely. Although Alex was about a foot shorter, they looked a lot alike and obviously shared a close bond.

"Okay… okay," Alex said through her laughter. "I'll only say good things about you. I promise."

"That's better." Rod stopped torturing her and again put his arm around her.

"Hey Mackenzie," Alex questioned, "Where were you a few weeks ago? We wanted to see you when we spent the weekend with Rod."

"When was that?" Mac asked.

"When Mom and Dad were in Africa—right before he broke his arm."

Suddenly it dawned on Mac why Alex looked so familiar. She'd all but forgotten that night until now. She felt her face turn red with the recognition that Rod _had_ in fact been with his family that night at the movies. The same horrible feeling she'd experienced when she'd learned about his broken arm washed over her and she was again shamed by the way she'd treated him when she saw him for the first time after that night. Moreover, she felt like a complete idiot for wasting all that energy worrying and fretting over nothing. She sighed involuntarily. But at least she'd let go of that demon weeks ago.

Rod saw a host of subtle expressions briefly cross Mackenzie's face at the mention of that weekend. It was almost as if she recognized Alex—but it was an uncomfortable and uneasy recognition. And how could that be? Mac had only seen his sister in a few photographs. Yet, this wasn't the first time he'd observed her internally react strongly to mention of that particular weekend. He'd seen it in the past, too, hadn't he?

After a few seconds, Mac answered, "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were coming into town. I would love to have spent time with you, Syd and Christopher. Unfortunately I was working all day Saturday and had already made plans to go to a movie with a friend that night. On Sunday I drove to Bridgeport and spent the day with my Mom."

"You went to a movie Saturday night?" Alex asked. "So did we. What did you see?"

"I really don't remember," Mac said with casual evasiveness. "I was distracted that night by school and stuff." She momentarily looked at her shoes. "What movie did you see?"

Rod had continued to watch Mackenzie closely. Now, however, he knew something definitely wasn't right, that something about the weekend _had _been bothering her, and that she was hiding something from him. He just didn't know what it could be. But it was time to find the answers. "Mac," he interrupted, "what theater did you and Mike go to that night?"

His puzzled look bothered her. She did not want to talk about that night with him. She'd put it behind her. However, he would be more curious if she completely ducked his question. "I think it was the _Criterion_. I really don't remember," she lied. "It was weeks ago. Does it matter?"

"Not really," he said with a shrug and in his own evasive manner. "I was just curious." Rod knew from her voice and the way she was now fidgeting with her purse that they had in fact gone to the _Criterion_. Why would she try and hide that fact from him? Unless… unless she'd seen him there, too. But if she'd been there, why didn't he know anything about it? And if she had seen them, why hadn't she come over to them?

"Okay," Mac said with a weak smile and a shrug of her own. Then seeking safer ground, she turned to Alex. "Did you have a good time in New Haven?"

While Mac talked with Alex, Rod let his thoughts wander. All of the sudden it became clear to him what must have happened that night and what she must have thought. Stanton. How could Mike claim to be her friend and then repeatedly hurt her by continually creating doubts in her mind and wreaking havoc with her emotions? Rod knew that underneath her strong, incredibly intelligent, capable exterior laid a sensitive and caring spirit. And her trust in men was fragile, the result of whatever had happened to her in the past. He'd seen the pain in her eyes, and felt the torment in her soul. Because of that, he knew what she must have thought at the time and how it must have devastated her—particularly after their disastrous lunch with Cooper and Carl where he'd been jokingly paraded around as some spoiled play-boy. Her evasion of his subsequent phone calls, and her cold shoulder treatment towards him when they'd initially seen each other after he got out of the hospital, now made a lot more sense. And if it were true, then so did his broken arm.

Instantaneously he felt enraged. If she'd been with anyone but Stanton that night, they would have made her talk to him and the whole thing could have been avoided. How ironic! Stanton had retaliated on the basketball court with an unprovoked, flagrant foul because he'd had the nerve to be seen at a movie with his sister. _What a load of crap_, he concluded. And because of Stanton's attitude and prejudice against him, Mac had undoubtedly endured an even greater emotional hell over it than he'd suffered physically. Rod clenched and then flexed his left hand.

"Rod?" Mac asked with great concern, having witnessed him unexpectedly turn away and having seen the visible tension in his body and the repeated clenching of his fist.

He didn't realize it but he was—like a stone statute, now blankly looking off in a direction opposite from where Alex and Mackenzie stood talking.

Mac went to him and put an arm around his waist. "Hey? Where are you?"

Her touch snapped him out of his trance. Looking down at her he realized how his reaction must have appeared to her. This was not the place or the time to have a serious conversation with her. He still wasn't certain that he'd got it right. He certainly didn't want to spoil their day—especially not now when everything appeared to be coming together for them. It _had_ been weeks ago and they'd come a long way in their relationship since that night and that couldn't have happened if she had serious questions as to his loyalty and his love for her. Besides, it was mostly Stanton he was angry at—Stanton who'd caused both of them to suffer for no valid reason. So he smiled at her and explained, "I'm sorry. Got lost in thought for a minute."

"Are you okay?" She was worried about his reaction.

"Fine," he assured her. "I just got distracted thinking about what I could say to Sydney by way of a pep talk." He put his arm around her and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Speaking of which," he said to both her and Alex, "we'd better head over there or I won't get a chance to talk with her before the game starts. Mackenzie, do you want your jacket?"

"No, thank you. I'm fine without it," Mac responded lightly. "But would you mind grabbing my purse from the car? I forgot it."

"With pleasure."

As Mac watched him retrieve her purse, she thought about how distracted he'd been. She hoped it really was about Syd because she never wanted him to learn what had really happened that night.

As Rod locked the car and handed Mackenzie her bag, he asked Alex. "Is everyone else here or did you drive over separately?"

"Everybody's here," Alex answered. "Even Nana. But you better talk to Syd first. She's really nervous."

The intuitive nature of the twins' relationship never ceased to surprise him. Somehow they could communicate without words and often times appeared to read each other's moods even when they were not together. "Okay. Let's go. You lead the way." He placed his hand on the small of Mac's back and they followed Alex, who walked on ahead of them.

"Sydney plays goalie," Rod told Mackenzie as they walked. "And she's good. But she gets tight until she has to make that first stop."

"It will be fun to watch her play," Mac told him.

Out of the blue the enormity of what was going to take place in a few minutes—her meeting virtually his entire family at once—hit her and she felt panicked. She'd never met David's family—not that it mattered anymore or that it would have made any difference at the time.

Rod felt her tense beside him. He knew she must be feeling what he'd experienced earlier at her doorstep and what he'd probably suffer through again later that evening when they had dinner with her parents. Only it had to be much worse for her because his family was so much bigger and crazier. "Thanks for being here with me," he whispered in her ear as they walked. "Everybody is going to love you. And you've got your two biggest fans here."

"My two biggest fans?" She stopped and faced him.

"Me and Nana," he said with smugness. "She likely would have been here anyway. But when she heard you were coming, nothing could have kept her away."

"Thanks."

"It's the truth," he said as he pulled her in close and gave her an enticing kiss, which she eagerly responded to without hesitation.

"Rod!" Alex interrupted in exasperation while rolling her eyes. "Sydney's waiting."

Rod and Mackenzie parted with a knowing smile. "Okay," he said lightly, "Keep your shirt on. We're right behind you."

Rod took Mackenzie by the hand and they followed Alex to the field. "You'll be fine," he told her quietly as they walked. "Besides," he teased, "you are Mackenzie Spencer Allen, Admiral Michael Allen's daughter and Editor-In-Chief of the Yale Law Journal, and nothing or nobody is going to get to you."

Mac laughed and she relaxed. "You're right," she said looking at him. "Game on!"

"Game on," he agreed, though he knew it really wouldn't be much of a contest and that success was guaranteed.

XXXXXXXX

When they entered area surrounding the field, Rod immediately searched for Sydney. He found her already in goal taking practice shots. Pointing in her direction, he told Mackenzie, "I'm going to talk to Sydney for a minute. Do you want to come with me?"

"Sure… if you don't think it will bother her."

"No. She'll be glad to have you there. She's the one most excited about meeting you. She loves it that you are tall because she is, too, and at seventeen it often makes her feel self-conscious about her femininity—particularly with her twin sister a good six inches shorter."

"Then I'd love to meet her now." Mac could certainly relate to how Syd felt. She'd often felt that same way—particularly as a teenager. Even as an adult she'd frequently had to fight those feelings. But not recently. In fact, virtually not at all since Rod had literally crashed into her and irrevocably changed so much in her life.

"Good."

As they walked towards Sydney, he said, "I forgot to tell you. She was the one who originally saw a 'Real Men Marry Lawyers' tee shirt in a catalog and showed it to me. She thought I should give it to you. But she hated the style of it so she designed and made your sweatshirt just for you."

"She did?" Mac's attitude about the sweatshirt had already changed from her initial embarrassment but knowing its true origins further altered her feelings about it.

"Yeah… I think she was sending me a not too subtle hint as to where she wanted our relationship to go. Not that I needed any hints. Because I've never had any doubts about us and where we would end up." He deliberately chose not to look at her directly because he didn't want to completely scare her off. However, he wanted her to have no question as to how he saw their relationship. No question about his desire to be with her for the rest of their lives. Yesterday had changed things between them. He'd intended to keep it light and fun between them; and while it had been both of those things, it had also deepened their connection and heightened their need and desire for each other.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye. He saw her initial surprise but at least she didn't appear shocked, uncertain, or put off by his comments. He wouldn't say more now. He'd let her ease into the idea. As Sydney was now only ten feet away with her back towards them, he called out, "Hey Calloway!"

When Sydney heard her name, she turned around and was relieved to see her big brother strolling towards her with Mackenzie. She didn't know why but she always felt better and played better when he was around. She threw the ball she was holding to a teammate and walked quickly around the back of the goal to meet them. "I thought you'd never get here," she said in greeting.

Rod went to her and put an arm around her. "Piece of cake, champ. You've got nerves of steel. Come meet Mackenzie briefly before you get back to work."

"Yeah… it's about time you brought her home," she replied as they walked the short distance to where Mac stood watching them with a smile on her face. "Hi Mackenzie," she said, not waiting for a formal introduction. Syd was pleased to discover that Mackenzie was slightly taller than she was… and very beautiful. No wonder Rod had fallen for her. But she knew her brother would never fall in love with just a pretty face. He'd also told her that Mac was the smartest person in the law school. Syd wished that she were beautiful and that smart. She wasn't dumb but she certainly wasn't a brainiac either—not like her siblings. She was more into creative things.

"It's good to meet you Sydney," Mac responded warmly. Rod was right. She was tall. She'd known the twins looked almost nothing alike, but she was surprised by how different they really were. Alex had Rod's dark coloring but was cute, petite with piercing blue eyes while Syd was tall, striking and blonde with grey-green eyes identical to those of her big brother. "Good luck today. I know you'll do great."

"Thank you," Sydney said with a smile. "I'd better get back. You are coming to lunch, aren't you?"

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Okay champ, get back to work," Rod told her. "Just remember: focus, position and balance. Keep your eye on the ball at all times. Keep yourself positioned between the trajectory of the ball and the goal. And when the ball is at your end, stay balanced on your toes so you can react."

"Got it," Syd said and turned back towards the goal. She'd heard this same talk from him countless times but it always seemed to help.

"Syd?"

She turned back around as Rod walked to her.

"A couple more things." He kissed her cheek. "First, a kiss for luck. And second, win, lose or tie I'm proud of you. Of course, you're a Calloway and what are we?"

"We are winners," Syd replied with laughter in an awful Bostonian accent. Years ago they'd seen a television movie about the Kennedy family and they'd been mocking and mimicking that bit of over the top dialogue with each other ever since.

"You ready to play ball?"

Syd nodded with conviction and returned to her place in goal, relaxed and ready to get it on.

As Rod watched her again take up her position, he felt Mackenzie's arm wrap around his back. "Hey…"

"She's going to do great." Watching him with his sisters made her long for a bigger family and reminded her just how lonely being an only child had been at times, particularly when her father was at sea. It was wonderful that, in spite of the age difference, they were so close. For such a bond to exist between their children, Mac realized that William and Elizabeth Calloway must be extraordinary parents. Of course, with the wide gap between their ages a lot of credit also had to be given to the man at her side. Without his attentiveness and commitment to family, such a bond could not as a practical matter exist regardless of their parents' intent.

"Yeah, she is." He stepped behind her and brought her against his chest with his arms encircling her waist and his head resting against her shoulder.

Mackenzie relaxed against his strength—at home in his gentle yet protective embrace. "Your brother and sisters are lucky to have you."

"No. I'm the lucky one to have them… and you."


	27. Greenwich

**27. Greenwich**

Elizabeth Amelia Harrison Calloway eagerly watched Rod approach the bleachers holding hands with Mackenzie. She'd been anxious for this meeting for a very long time. She'd known Mackenzie was tall and beautiful, but she hadn't been prepared for how well-matched they appeared, or for exactly how relaxed and happy this young woman obviously made her oldest son. It seemed like yesterday that she'd been sitting on similar bleachers watching him play baseball and basketball. Then, sports had been his life; and there was a secret place in her heart that longed to go back to that time in life. Nevertheless, she was incredibly proud of the man he'd become—similar to, and yet different from, his father. He was her firstborn and they shared a special connection—a closeness that was both quiet and innate. It was a different relationship than the equally close bonds he shared with his grandmother, his siblings and even his father.

Will continued to struggle internally with Rod's decision to attend law school. The fact that Mackenzie was likewise in law school only further complicated matters for her husband because it made the possibility of him changing their son's career plans more remote. She knew his struggle was because of the disappointment he felt in losing the chance to work closely with his son as _he_ had done with his father. However, Elizabeth also knew that though he may not have recognized it yet, Will would get the opportunity to work with his children. But that it would be with his second daughter and likely his second son. Rod and Sydney, on the other hand, were destined for something different.

All four of her children shared overlapping traits. But Sydney, the family's only artist, would be miserable working daily in the black and white, two plus two, world of banking. And although Rod was a skilled financial investor and strategist, he would be as miserable there as his younger sister. Conversely, Alexandra would thrive in that world and so, most likely, would Christopher.

Elizabeth shook her head. Where had the years gone? Unlike her husband, she didn't care what career path their son chose so long as it was work that was meaningful and brought him happiness and fulfillment. More than anything, she was glad to have him home. She'd hated Rod's decision to join the Army—particularly during a time of war. Every day he'd spent in the Middle East was a day she'd lived in absolute terror for his safety. At the same time, she'd admired his courage and his determination. His torn rotator cuff may have ended his pitching days but he'd had the potential for a long career at first or third base. Yet he'd walked away from the game he'd loved, and had worked exceptionally hard on rehabilitating his shoulder and finishing his undergraduate coursework early. He rarely talked about his time in the military. But it had changed him. The lessons he'd learned while serving were readily apparent. His grandmother was right: He'd left a boy and returned a man.

Elizabeth was brought back to the present by the sound of her son's voice, "Mom," he said proudly, "I'd like you to meet Mackenzie." She looked up and smiled. But her smile could not come close in wattage to the grin on his face.

"Mac, my mother, Elizabeth Calloway."

"Welcome Mackenzie," Elizabeth told her sincerely, "We're so glad you could join us today."

"Thank you for including me, Mrs. Calloway." She studied Rod's mother. Elizabeth was about 5'8" and slender with blonde, shoulder length hair and bright, penetrating green eyes.

"Please, call me Elizabeth or Liz."

"Thank you."

"I understand it's your father's birthday today. Thank him for sharing you with us."

"I will." Mac smiled as she recalled the look on his face when he'd realized he could blame his need to golf on her desire to be here with Rod. "Actually, he saw it as the best birthday present he could receive because it meant that he was free to spend the entire day playing golf without risking my mother's wrath."

"Lucky man," Will Calloway said approaching the group. He'd been talking with some friends when Rod and Mackenzie had arrived. "Would love to be doing that myself." He quickly kissed his wife on the cheek and then stuck out his hand. "Hello, Mackenzie," he said warmly before adding with a wink, "I'm Will… not William and definitely not Mr. Calloway."

Mac smiled and shook his offered hand. "Thank you, Will, and most people—especially my father—call me 'Mac.'" Already she could tell that Rebecca's son had inherited her "playful, no nonsense" demeanor. He was an inch or two shorter than Rod with intense blue eyes and a head full of dark hair that was now sprinkled with gray around the temples. Handsome and distinguished looking, he was a man who was obviously successful and used to taking charge.

"Mac it is, then." He turned to Rod, who was standing next to her with a supportive hand pressed against her lower back. "Hello, son. Did you get your sister squared away?"

"I think so—hope so."

Will nodded but he was still nervous. This was a big day for his daughter. "Mac, the girls may be twins but it's Rod and Sydney who are the most alike. And before big games, he's the only one she'll allow to speak with her. The rest of us have to keep our distance."

Slightly uncomfortable with being made the center of conversation, Rod piped in, "Would anybody like a drink or anything from the concession stand? I'm thirsty." He also needed a few minutes to process and put into proper perspective his thoughts about what he had just learned about that fateful Saturday night at the movies.

"I'm fine," Will said. "But if you'll excuse me, there are a few people I need to say 'hello' to before the game gets underway."

"Certainly," Elizabeth replied. After Will left, she told Rod, "I'd love some hot chocolate. How about you, Mackenzie?"

"Sounds good," she said before turning to Rod. "But why don't you let me go. You don't want to miss any of the game."

"Thanks," he told her. "But it won't take long. You can cheer extra loud if they start before I get back."

"Okay."

"Do you want me to get your jacket, too?"

"I'm fine."

He kissed her on the cheek. "Be right back."

"Mackenzie," Elizabeth told her as they watched Rod walk away, "come sit down and we can get acquainted." Then with a knowing smile she added, "Rebecca will be back with Christopher any minute and I know she wants to hear _all _about your trip to Europe."

Mac returned her smile with a knowing one of her own and the two women sat down on the bleachers and began to talk as women do.

XXXXXXXXXX

As they pulled into the Calloway driveway after the game, Mackenzie studied her surroundings. "I'm glad I met your family before you brought me here," she said finally in a dry, teasing tone.

"What do you mean?" He asked turning the car's engine off.

She turned towards him. "Rod, this isn't a house… it's an estate."

"It's really not," he insisted sheepishly before trying to explain more. "It looks like more than it is. It's just home—not formal at all. Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to be falsely modest. I know how lucky I am—how easy I've had it." He took a breath. "But Mac, we're not like that…"

She smiled. He felt more self-conscious than she did. She put her hand on his thigh. "I know you're not. None of you are. That's what I was trying to tell you." She leaned over and kissed him. "Come on," she said opening her car door, "let's go inside and you can give me the grand tour."

"You got it," Rod said as he, too, got out.

As they walked towards the house, Mac asked, "So did your grandmother really have a prior engagement for lunch or was it just an excuse?"

"Probably a little of both. She's a tornado—never slows down. She wanted to be at the game for both you and Sydney. But I'm sure she wanted to give the rest of the family the chance to get to know you, too." As Rod opened the back door, he clarified, "However, I'm sure we'll both be receiving another summons to lunch or dinner very soon."

Having spent even more time with Rebecca today, Mac had no doubt that such an "invitation" would be forthcoming.

They walked into the kitchen and found Elizabeth and Alex hard at work. "Something smells good," Rod exclaimed.

"It better," Elizabeth replied lightly while drying her hands on a dishtowel.

"Can we do anything to help?" Mac asked. She was somewhat surprised to find them, and not a cook, making lunch.

"No," Elizabeth told her. "It's nothing fancy. Alex and I are about finished. By the time the others get here, we'll be ready to eat." Will and Christopher had stayed at the high school to wait for Sydney.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. But thanks for the offer. I'm sure I'll take you up on it frequently in the future."

"I'll look forward to it. Although I warn you, I'm much better at the clean-up than the cooking."

"Somehow I doubt that. I have it from a good source that you excel at everything you do."

While the two women were talking, the source in question had grabbed a spoon and was sampling the chicken salad. That is, until he got caught by his mother.

"Stop that," she said with a playful tap on his wrist.

"But I'm a growing boy. I didn't get breakfast and I'm starved," he said pitifully.

"You are not a growing boy and it's your own fault if you didn't get up in time to make yourself breakfast." Elizabeth turned around and rolled her eyes at Mackenzie as if to say, _What pathetic creatures men can sometimes be… and soon he's going to be your problem._

Mac smiled at his mother's expression and the fact that as soon as her back was turned, Rod had returned to the task of satisfying his hunger.

When Elizabeth turned around, he again had his spoon in the chicken salad. She took the spoon from his hand. "No more," she said firmly.

He began to tickle her. "Come on, Mom. You're not really going to make me wait, are you?"

Through her laughter she said, "Go," and pointed towards the interior door. She pushed his hands away. "I'm serious. Go show Mackenzie around and leave us in peace."

"Yes, ma'am." He kissed her on the cheek. "Let's go, Mac. We're not welcome here," he teased. He took her hand but before they left the room, he called out over his shoulder, "Great chicken, Sis… but don't let Mom work you too hard."

"Out," Elizabeth ordered with a grin, hitting him on the backside with the dishtowel.

For the next forty-five minutes, Rod walked Mac through the house and the grounds. In his bedroom, he tried to seduce her and failed. In the batting cage, he tried to teach her how to hit a curve ball but struck out. However, he gave her roses from the green house with only a small cut to his hand. And in the spacious home theater, he succeeded in convincing her to make out with him without the benefit of a movie.

This is where his father finally found them laughing and kissing after his siblings had failed to locate them. Will quickly realized they were totally oblivious to what was going on around them. Eventually he loudly cleared his throat and turned on the light.

Rod peeked his head above the back of the couch, while Mac buried her head in his chest. "Hi, Dad. We were just watching a movie."

"A romantic comedy, I see," Will commented. "One of your personal favorites, if I'm not mistaken."

"Yeah, should have won the Oscar for Best Picture," Rod told him while wearing an identical smirk. "Do you want to join us?"

Will shook his head with a knowing smile. "Listen, your mother has lunch ready, so don't be long." He shut the door but left the light on while his son returned to what he was doing before the intermission.

"Rod!" Mac protested, trying to sit up.

"What?" he asked innocently.

"I'm so embarrassed."

"We were just watching a movie." He sat up, too.

"We were not…"

"Mackenzie," he cut her off, "there's a reason why my father knew exactly where to find us and trust me, it has nothing to do with me. I'm talking incredibly boring documentaries."

In spite of herself, Mac began to laugh. "You're kidding?"

"No… it's the honest truth, I swear."

"Actually," she admitted, "that's a really smart idea."

"Oh, yeah," he replied while raising a very suggestive eyebrow. "Definitely something to keep in mind for the future."

She shook her head. "You really are incorrigible."

"It's an inherited trait, I'm afraid."

"Trust me, Calloway," Mac told him. "I'm the one who's afraid."

"You should be afraid," he responded with a cocky grin as he again began to kiss her.

XXXXXXXXXX

Ten minutes later they walked into the kitchen where the rest of the family was already seated.

"It's about time," Christopher told them. "We're starved."

"Where'd you go?" Sydney asked. "We couldn't find you."

"Yeah," Alex interjected. "Did you get lost big brother and forget to leave a trail of bread crumbs behind?"

"Sorry," Rod shrugged as he casually held Mac's chair for her, "we were watching a movie and lost track of the time."

Mac saw his parents give each other a secret, knowing look across the length of the table and she felt herself redden a little. Fortunately, however, the younger Calloways failed to notice because they were too busy taking on their big brother.

"You were not watching a movie," Alex insisted.

"Yes, we were." Rod was equally adamant. "A romantic comedy." He turned towards Mac. "Tell them, Mac."

Will and Elizabeth again made eye contact. _Poor Mackenzie_, she silently told him. _She has no idea what she's in for with this bunch_, Will agreed.

"Great movie," she told his siblings, "with a brilliant and incredibly beautiful leading lady." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "Oh, and the hero wasn't too bad looking either."

"See, told you so," Rod innocently told them.

"Yeah right! That is total bull," Christopher piped in. "Because I looked in the theater and it was completely dark. There was no movie on."

"Maybe you need to get your eyes checked, baby brother," Rod said with a smile.

_Or his hearing_, thought Mac, because she knew they hadn't exactly been quiet in there. She'd been initially surprised by Christopher—not by his blond hair and blue eyes, but by the fact that he was not much taller than Alex and was built more like a linebacker. However, he was only fourteen and that was sure to change as he matured.

After the exchange of yet another look between parents, Will tapped his glass with a spoon and said loudly, "That's enough." Afterwards, everything and everyone quickly grew quiet. "First of all," he continued, "I'd like to welcome Mackenzie to the chaos we affectionately call 'family dinner.' Mac," he said turning to his right where she sat, "I'd like to assure you that this is not normal behavior around here, but that would be a lie. All you can hope is that you develop selective hearing… like their mother."

"Did you say something, dear?" Elizabeth asked playfully.

Everyone laughed.

"It was nothing important, honey—as usual," he said in a teasing tone while looking intimately at his wife before turning towards his oldest daughter, who was seated on his left. "And I'd also like to congratulate our newest state champion, the MVP of the tournament." He raised his glass. "Way to go, Syd!"

"Yeah, Syd," Christopher agreed. "Great game."

"You're the best," Alex added.

"Absolutely," Mac replied. "I still can't believe you made two stops in the shoot out. Thanks for letting me be part of it. I had no idea soccer could be so exciting."

Rod, on the other hand, didn't have to say a word. He simply winked at his younger sister and she received his message of pride and congratulations loud and clear.

When everyone had expressed words of praise to Sydney, Will said, "Rod, why don't you say Grace so we can eat."

"Yes, sir."

Immediately following the prayer everyone quickly began to eat and the chaos temporarily ceased.

After a few minutes, however, Sydney asked, "Mackenzie, did you like your Helly/Hansen outfit?"

"Did you pick it out?" Mac responded affectionately.

"Well, Mom and I did."

Mac smiled and looked at both mother and daughter. "Thank you both. I love it. The colors and fit are perfect. But," Mac added looking at Sydney, "I like my sweatshirt even more. Great design. Now that takes real talent." Immediately she felt Rod's hand begin to rub her leg in an intimate expression of thanks for her words of encouragement to his sister.

"Thanks," Sydney responded with a shrug and a smile. "It was easy but fun to make. I'm glad Rod didn't wait to give it to you."

"Me, too." Mac again found it amazing how quickly one's perceptions of a person or thing could change. She'd hated the sweatshirt at first but now that she knew its origins, and the true intent of the giver, her feelings about it had changed completely. She now treasured it.

"So Mac," Will asked putting down his soupspoon, "what did you think of 'The Deuce?'"

"The Deuce?" Mac questioned.

"Yeah," Christopher clarified. "Rod's boat. It's cool, huh?"

"Definitely." Mac turned to Rod. "Your boat," she asked in surprise, "…and it's named 'The Deuce?'"

Everyone else at the table laughed.

Rod gave her a sheepish shrug before clarifying, "Well, that's a nickname—and not from ESPN 2. Its real name is 'Sea Fever II.'"

"But we call it 'The Deuce,'" Will explained further, "because years ago he also made us name the sail boat, 'Sea Fever.'"

"Sea Fever?" she said to Rod. "Interesting choice. How'd you come up with that?"

Alexandra and Christopher began to groan before mockingly reciting in unison, "_I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by…._"

"Word Play?" Mac guessed once they'd finished.

"Word Play," Elizabeth affirmed.

"Actually," Will told the table, "I think this one we owe to my Dad. I believe he was the one who taught Rod this particular poem when he was only five or six." He turned to Rod. "Isn't that right, son? Wasn't it about the same time you received your first fishing pole?"

"Pretty close to that," Rod answered almost wistfully. "And yeah, Papa taught me that poem." Despite the intervening years, he still missed his grandfather. Momentarily he let his mind slip back to the past and to their times together.

"Was that the fishing pole that ended up being carried out to see by that monster fish, almost taking him with it?" Mac asked. A sudden mental picture of a little dark-haired boy sitting on the edge of the boat quoting poetry with his new fishing pole in hand warmed her heart.

Will laughed. "I'd forgotten about that story." He, too, turned reflective. It had been more than twenty years since that day. His little boy was now a man—a man who quite possibly would be out fishing with his own son in the foreseeable future. His son had matured a great deal in the past few years and Will knew he was ready for the responsibility of being a husband and a father; and that in fact, he looked forward to it. Of course, it was this particular woman who made him now embrace that kind of commitment. Where had the time gone? He saw the look on Mac's face and said quietly to her, "He told you, huh?"

Mac looked him in the eye and discovered that the picture she had in her mind must be true. "Yeah, he did."

"What story, Dad?" Sydney asked breaking the moment.

"The story of Rod's first day fishing on the Sound with his very own fishing pole."

"Oh yeah," the three youngest Calloways said at the same time.

"I love that story," Syd added.

"You must have been a total nerd," Christopher threw out at his big brother.

Rod chose to ignore the taunt and instead took another bite of chicken salad.

Will shook his head. "No," he interjected, "but he was a stubborn little cuss."

"Well," Elizabeth informed her husband, "what did you expect? He is after all a Calloway."

"Oh, I don't know, I think he's got quite a lot of Harrison in him, too," Will replied with a wink.

"See Mac," the he in question said, "this is what it's all about: being referred to as perfect by your parents in third person while sitting at the same table."

The parents in question laughed at the obvious and deliberate misinterpretation by their son concerning respective family traits he'd inherited.

"What he forgot to mention," Will said to Mac, "is how much he's paying us to make up nice things about him."

"Desperate times, Dad… desperate times. I believe you were the one who taught me that…"

"See, it's those Calloway genes again," Elizabeth joked. "They're ruthless. Better watch out, Mackenzie."

"Oh, after yesterday, I'm not too worried," Rod told his family. "Because Mac now has a fish story of her own to live down."

The laughter ceased and everyone looked at Mackenzie expectantly.

Mac smiled at the memory and then told the table, "Well, first he made us use live eels as bait. Totally gross."

All of the women at the table moaned and made faces in perfect agreement with Mac's assessment of the slimy creatures.

"I didn't make you touch them—or even look at them," he complained. "Besides, it worked, didn't it?"

"Yeah," she agreed, "it worked. Except that my big catch got eaten by an even bigger monster as I was about to reel it in."

"What?" Elizabeth asked in disbelief.

Laughing, Rod picked up the story. "You should have seen the size of the second fish that jumped out of the water and took a huge bite out of her fish as I was about to catch it in the net. She got the surprise of her life, screamed, lost her balance and stepped all over me. As a result, I lost my balance and we both ended up flat on our backs on the deck of the boat."

Amazement at the table soon turned to laughter as everyone mentally pictured exactly how this particular scene must have looked.

"And poor Rod," Mac finished once the laughter had mostly died down, "he had yet another new fishing pole carried out to sea by a ornery, behemoth fish… never to be seen nor heard from again."

"Alas, another one got away," Rod told his family dryly with a helpless shrug and accompanying gesture with his hands.

"But not the girl," Elizabeth said referencing that Mackenzie was the only catch that truly mattered to her son.

Rod smiled at his mother. "No, not the girl," he agreed before turning to the girl in question. Sharing a warm glance and a smile with her, he said intently, "She's not going anywhere if I can help it."

"Gross," Christopher commented. "Get a room, Rod. All this sissy talk is ruining my appetite."

Everyone laughed at his typical, immature male reaction to any kind of public displays of affection.

However, Mac also felt herself begin to redden until Alex told the table, "He's just jealous because the sophmore cheerleader he has a crush on won't give him the time of day."

"Well," Elizabeth said, "that's just as well. He knows he's not allowed to date until he's sixteen."

"It's such a stupid rule," Christopher mumbled.

"Too bad," Will told him. "Your brother and sisters survived and so will you. Group activities are fine, however, you know the rule: no one-on-one or formal dating until you're sixteen. End of story." Will turned to Mac, "Welcome to the teenage years."

Mac grinned as Will then asked her, "I understand you'll be working at _Shearman & Sterling_ after graduation?"

She nodded. "You know the firm?"

"Yes. As you can imagine I have frequent interaction with the City's legal community. We've actually been represented by your firm on a couple of occasions when we've required outside counsel—mostly worked with Daniel Goldsmith and Francis Frederico."

"I've met both of them but it's been in passing. I haven't worked with either one yet."

"I know you had many offers, Mackenzie. How did you decide?" Elizabeth asked.

"A good friend from Brown, Anthony Prado, is an associate and he convinced me to spend the summer there. I enjoyed it and felt I could work there permanently. So when the offer came at the end of the summer, I accepted. It certainly has taken away a lot of pressure from this school year. It's been nice to have that decision out of the way."

"I bet," Will agreed. "Do you know which section you'll be in yet?"

"Not yet. They give new associates a year or so to get their feet wet and find their niche. But my main interest is in civil litigation."

Rod told his parents, "You ought to see her argue on her feet. Amazing."

"He exaggerates," an embarrassed Mac said.

"I don't think so," Will told her. He'd made a few calls—calls that neither his wife, nor his son, was aware of—and what he'd learned about her had been incredibly impressive. "Litigation equals high stress and extra long hours, I believe."

"That's what they tell me. I've never minded hard work. And I love the thought of actually getting into the courtroom instead of practicing only paper law."

"Do you think you'll want to stay there?" Elizabeth asked.

Mac turned to her. "I don't know. Depends on a lot of things both personal and professional, I guess. I'm also interested in maybe teaching someday or if I end up loving the courtroom perhaps even becoming a judge."

"Good—less demanding—work," Will said. "But I'd like to convince both you and Rod to come work with me instead."

Mac was surprised.

"Dad," Rod said firmly, "we had a deal…"

"I know. But that doesn't mean that I can't try and change your mind and Mackenzie's too. Both of you are bright and talented—and you son, have a real gift… you know that. I'd be a fool and a very poor businessman not to try."

Hearing his father's words, Mac realized that there was much she still did not know about the man at her side including the specific type of financial business his family was in. Rod had always been so vague about it and he downplayed everything. And really, it hadn't been important to her or their relationship up to now.

"May I please be excused?" Sydney interrupted.

"You may," Elizabeth responded. "But put your dishes in the dishwasher, please."

"Thank you." She stood up and carried her dishes to the sink.

"May I be excused, too?" Alex followed.

"Me, too?" Christopher added.

"Yes," Will answered, "but under the same conditions."

Mac smiled at this exchange and how open, teasing yet respectful and affectionate they all were.

Before she left the kitchen, Sydney returned to the table. "Rod, when are you taking Mackenzie home?"

Rod looked at his watch. "In about an hour."

"Can I come?"

He looked at Mac.

"Absolutely," she answered.

"Do you two want to come too?" He asked Alexandra, who was now standing next to her twin.

Christopher, on the other hand, had fled before he got stuck doing all the dishes.

"Can I?"

"Of course," Mac told her. "It wouldn't be the same without you. Besides I think your brother owes both of you a celebratory shopping trip on the way home."

Rod groaned while the girls were in total agreement. They left the room with big smiles on their faces, already discussing where they should go and what they should buy.

"Thanks a lot," he affectionately whispered. "You're going to owe me for this…"

But Mac simply smiled.

"Mackenzie," Elizabeth asked, "would you like to take a walk with me?" They'd only had a few minutes alone together at the game before Rebecca and the others returned and things got increasingly hectic and intense on the field.

"I'd like that," Mac answered. She'd felt immediately comfortable with Rod's mother, which was something that didn't happen a lot.

Elizabeth stood. "Just leave your dishes. The men can clean up here."

"Okay." Elizabeth, Mac was quickly learning, was her kind of woman.

"Have fun," Rod said momentarily reaching for her hand as she left the table.

XXXXXXXXXX

When the women left the room, Will turned to his son. "It's been quite a day."

"Yeah," Rod agreed. "Syd really was spectacular this morning and it's been great to have Mackenzie here."

"I'd say you've had quite the weekend so far. Sounds like you had a fun day yesterday out on the water."

"We did… maybe one of the best days ever. Everything was perfect—the weather, the boat, the company." Rod grinned. "Okay, the fishing didn't result in dinner but it served its purpose."

Will laughed. "How's the arm? We haven't had a moment to talk."

"It's fine." Rod turned over and flexed his left arm and hand. "Just a small scar. But the strength is pretty good and it hasn't been sore at all."

"Are you going to get back on the court soon? Or are you hanging it up?"

"No way." Rod shook his head. "I'll be out there Monday morning bright and early. Can't wait to get back out there."

"That's what I thought." Will paused and sighed. "You love law school, don't you?"

Rod looked at his Dad and saw both disappointment and perhaps resignation. "Yeah, I do. But I promised you I'd spend this summer at the bank and I meant it. And you know that I'll always be there if you truly need me. Family comes first—you taught me that. You and Mom."

"That's all I can ask."

"What do you think of my girl?"

"I think she's incredible. A wonderful woman. I can see how and why you love her like you do."

"But…"

"But have you really thought about out how this is all going to work?"

Rod was confused. "What do you mean?"

"You do plan on marrying her, right?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Well, how's it all going to work?" Will asked again. "Take the next two years, for example. She's got to be in the City and you've got to be in New Haven. Where are you going to live? Are you going to commute? Is she?"

"I guess I haven't thought about that yet in terms of specifics."

"Don't you think you'd better start thinking about it? You're not planning to wait until after your graduation to get married, are you?"

"No."

"Okay, then. And when are you going to have time together? She's going to be working 80 hours a week and from what I understand the second and third years of law school are busier than the first year."

"We'll work it out. Compromise. I'm not afraid of commitment, or of working at this relationship."

"I know you're not. The adults who raised you—particularly your grandmother, would be sorely disappointed if you were. But what about later? Where are you going to work? Are you going to take a job with a big firm and work 80 hours a week yourself? What about children? What then? How does it all work?"

"What are you really getting at, Dad?"

Will took a deep breath. "I know you love Mackenzie and it's obvious to me that she loves you, too. But there's much more to marriage than love and attraction. And I'm wondering if the two of you are a good fit together."

"I don't understand." He was still confused. "We get along great—physically and otherwise. We laugh. We have similar interests, ambitions. We both love and want children. We try to be honest and do the right thing; and neither of us is afraid of hard work. She's more religious than I am, but I'm willing to be there with her. Why wouldn't we be a good fit?"

"Because you are so similar," Will told him simply. "You are smart, capable and have been blessed with many talents. You also have big dreams and great ambitions." Will stood and went around the table to sit directly across from his son. "Rod, I know what you want out of life and how important children and family are to you."

"So?"

"So, I've been where you're at… I had similar professional ambitions and so did your mother."

"Mom?"

Will nodded. "I don't think you know this, but when your mother and I met she'd been accepted at most of the top medical schools in the country—Harvard, Duke… Johns Hopkins."

"You're kidding? What happened? Why didn't she go?"

"Because she realized that for our relationship to work like we wanted one of us was going to have to make sacrifices. And she knew what it meant to me—and my Dad—to work together. So she was the one who compromised and gave up her dream. She did it for our relationship and for you and your siblings."

Rod was stunned.

"You and Mackenzie each have very large professional and personal aspirations. Both of you are going to have to sacrifice and compromise for you to have the kind of marriage and family life I know you want."

"I know that and I'm willing to do what it takes."

"That's good. But even with both of you making compromises, usually one partner has to be willing to sacrifice more. That's just the way life goes. Is she willing to support you when opportunities come to you? Is she willing to sacrifice her own ambitions and opportunities for you and your children?"

"I think so," Rod told him. "I think we both are."

"And what if opportunities come to her?" Will paused for effect. "Rod, she is extraordinary. You both are. And if she's the one who is given the chance to shine, are you going to be okay with that? Are you willing to be the supportive one? The one who compromises and sacrifices your own aspirations for the good of your marriage and your children? Because if you're not, then maybe this isn't a good relationship for you."

Will could see that his son was overwhelmed, trying to process all that he'd just been told. "Son, I love you and I'm proud of you. I'm not trying to change your mind or even discourage this relationship. Mackenzie is an incredible woman and I would be thrilled and proud to have her as a daughter-in-law. But I want you to think long and hard about what kind of relationship you want… and what you're willing to give up, if necessary, down the road to keep that relationship strong and to keep your children happy and secure."

Rod nodded. "I understand."

"Okay." Will looked around at the messy kitchen that his wife had shrewdly left them to clean. He gestured with his head and said, "So do you want to wash or dry?"

Rod, too, looked at the stack of dishes and pans around the sink. "I'll dry."

"Smart choice," Will noted as he picked up some remaining dishes from the table.

XXXXXXXXXX

After leaving the men to the dishes, Elizabeth and Mac walked outside and into the back garden. It was a very mild, sunny day for late November. "Are you surviving the day?" Elizabeth asked lightly.

"Truthfully," Mac acknowledged, "it's all a little overwhelming. But thank you for making me feel welcome."

"You are welcome here and you always will be. We've wanted to meet you for a long time," Elizabeth said warmly. "But this," she said gesturing to their physical surroundings, "and my family can be overpowering—especially at first. I remember feeling the exact same way when I met Will's parents the first time… and he didn't have any rowdy, younger siblings."

"You weren't raised with this?" Mac was surprised. Elizabeth seemed so at home—so comfortable—with all of it.

"Far from it," Elizabeth told her. Pointing to a small table in the corner of the garden, she added, "Let's sit down."

After the two of them were seated, Elizabeth continued, "I was born in Philadelphia but my parents were killed when I was four and I went to live with my great aunt and uncle in Brooklyn."

"I'm so sorry." She was shocked.

"Me, too," Elizabeth admitted. "Not sorry for myself… No, that's not completely true. I miss that relationship and support. But I'm mostly sorry that they didn't get the chance to know Will or their grandchildren and that my children have been deprived of knowing them, too."

"My paternal grandparents died when I was a small child and I don't see my maternal grandparents as often as I'd like. They became snowbirds and have moved to south Florida years ago. But I can't imagine what it must have been like to lose both parents so young."

"In some ways," Elizabeth told her, "I was lucky to be that young. I think it lessened the trauma associated with their deaths. The flip side is that I only have a few memories of them." She took a deep breath. "But I was very lucky. My great aunt and uncle were wonderful to me. They had no other children and they gave me everything they had—not things, but love, encouragement, and opportunity."

"Are they still alive?"

"No, my great uncle died during my freshman year at Columbia and my aunt a couple of years later, about six months before I met Will."

Mac now had a much greater understanding of why Rod and his siblings were so grounded despite the obvious Calloway family wealth. "He's not crazy about the name 'William' is he?"

"No," Elizabeth chuckled, "he's not. And he likes 'William Roderic' even less."

"I bet," Mac said with a smile. "How did the two of you meet?" They came from such different backgrounds, she was curious about their introduction.

"I was on scholarship at Columbia majoring in chemistry. At that time I was planning on going to medical school so I was volunteering at one of the City's hospitals. One night while I was working Will was brought into the ER with a ruptured appendix. He—like his father—had graduated from Yale and was working at the bank. He claims he took one look at me and fell instantly in love." Elizabeth sighed, realizing that it had been twenty-seven years since that fateful night. "I'm still not certain about that whole thing but he made me write my name and phone number on a piece of paper and stick it in his pants pocket. I did as he asked, never expecting to hear from him. I was wrong. Within a week of his discharge he invited me to lunch. And we've been together ever since."

"Wow," Mac exclaimed. "How old were you?"

"I was twenty-one and he was twenty-five."

The same age as Gabriel was when he met Rebecca, Mac realized. And the same age as Rod. "Do all the Calloway men fall hard and fast at twenty-five? Is it some kind of genetic pre-disposition or compulsion?" Mac jokingly asked.

Elizabeth laughed, knowing that history had, in fact, repeated itself with her son. "It certainly seems so."

"Where do they find the confidence to make those decisions so quickly?" This was something that continued to amaze her.

"Frankly, I don't know," Elizabeth conceded. "I only know how well things have worked out." She studied her future daughter-in-law for a moment. "Marriage—love—no matter when or where it happens is always ultimately a leap of faith. But if both parties are committed to the partnership, and are willing to be selfless, to compromise, and to communicate then it can be a remarkable, wonderful thing."

Mac thought about her parents and Rod's parents and grandparents. She knew that what Elizabeth said about love and marriage was true. But finding the faith to take that leap was something else entirely. And how much of herself would she give up in the process? She'd been willing to give up everything for David and still that hadn't been enough. "What about your education? Your desire to be a doctor?" Mac asked. "Rod's never mentioned you wanted to attend medical school."

"I'm not sure he knows," Elizabeth said. "I finished my bachelor's degree shortly after we met. Will was working long hours at the bank with his father. I made the decision not to continue my schooling so we would have time together. As it turned out I ended up getting pregnant shortly after we married, so it worked out for the best."

"Wasn't that hard?"

"Sometimes," Elizabeth acknowledged. "But my marriage and my son meant more to me than becoming a doctor. I know women who do both—and I have great admiration for them. There is no right and wrong choice that applies across the board to everyone. For me, I chose to be at home. Now, had I known then that it would be eight years before we had other children, I may have made a different decision. However, I don't regret my choice. I love my life… love my family. I'm extremely blessed and grateful to have all of them in my life."

"You have a wonderful family," Mac said sincerely. She wanted a family like this one. She hated the loneliness of being an only child, particularly when her father was away so much. She wanted children. But she wanted to work, too. Was that selfish?

"Thank you," Elizabeth said. "What I really have is a son who is very much in love… with you."

Mac saw warmth, affection and ultimately approval in his mother's eyes. "Yes," she quietly agreed.

"And I think that you are in love with him, too." Elizabeth had watched her closely today. She was aware of the care with which Mackenzie had watched over her son after his surgery. She also knew her mother-in-law was a very shrewd judge of character; and Rebecca was crazy about this young woman.

Mackenzie made no verbal response, nor was one necessary or expected. The smile on her face and the light in her eyes unmistakably answered the question. And that was all Rod Calloway's mother needed to know. "Come on," Elizabeth said standing up, "I bet it's safe to go inside now. The men should have the dishes done by now and I know you have to go soon."

Mac smiled as she stood. This was an amazing woman. And her son, it was readily apparent, had also inherited a lot from her. As they returned to the house, Mac said, "Thank you, Elizabeth."

"You're very welcome. I hope we have many more conversations like this in the future."

"Me, too."

XXXXXXXXXX

When the two of them walked into the kitchen, Will was turning on the dishwasher while Rod was putting away the crockpot from the sweet potato soup.

"Looks like our timing is perfect," Elizabeth said to the group.

"As always," Will said affectionately to his wife. "Did the two of you have a good visit, arrange for world peace?"

"World peace," Elizabeth told them, "that's an easy one, isn't it Mackenzie?"

"Absolutely," Mac agreed, instinctively understanding the direction Elizabeth was heading. "Just put women in positions of power all around the world. There won't be any more wars or Third World populations that are decimated by poverty and disease."

"Exactly."

Will laughed. "The philosopher queens at their best, I see. While the poor men are relegated to dish duty."

Rod had a smile on his face, but Elizabeth could tell that he was distracted. Something was on his mind that hadn't been there before. "Rod," she asked him, "could you help me with something quickly before you leave?"

"Sure." He followed her into the adjacent family room. "What can I do for you?"

"Something's bothering you," she told him. "Did your father…"

He smiled at how protective she was about her little boy still. "It's nothing I can't handle. But would you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"How would you feel about inviting the Allens over for dinner tomorrow afternoon? I'll help you get everything ready."

"That's a great idea," she agreed. "Just don't expect gourmet on such short notice."

"Everything you do is gourmet," he insisted. His mother was an incredible cook. "But will you call her mother, Kate, while I take Mackenzie home? I want the invitation to come from you and Dad and not me. I left the phone number on my desk upstairs."

"Sure—if that's what you want."

"It is. Need anything from the store?"

"No, I'll take care of everything."

"Thanks, Mom. And thanks for today—for making her feel so welcome."

"She's a wonderful woman. I can see why you love her."

He kissed her on the cheek. "I love you, too."

"I know. Me, too."


	28. Live from Connecticut

**28. Live from Connecticut… It's Saturday Afternoon**

"Hi, Mom," Mac said walking into the kitchen with Rod and his sisters.

"Hi," Kate answered. "I didn't expect you back so soon. Hello, Rod. Are these your sisters?"

He nodded. "This is Sydney and Alexandra," he told her draping an arm around each twin.

"It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Allen," Sydney said politely.

"Me, too," Alex added.

"I'm so glad to meet both of you. Now, how was the soccer game? You look like a happy bunch."

"It was great," Mac told her Mom. "Syd was incredible. She's the goalie. The game went into a shootout and you should have seen the stops she made."

"That is terrific. Congratulations!" Kate told Syd enthusiastically.

"Thanks, Mrs. Allen," Syd said somewhat shyly.

Kate turned to Alex. "Do you play sports, too?"

"I'm a cheerleader and I play basketball."

"Really?"

Rod and the twins laughed. They were used to receiving this same reaction from people who didn't know the twins and who naturally assumed that Sydney—and not Alex—would be the basketball player.

"She's not tall," Syd clarified, "but she's fast and a great shooter."

"The family's token point guard," Rod said putting his arm around Alex. "It's her job to get the rest of us the ball."

"Only because none of you are coordinated enough to dribble," Alex responded.

"Actually," Rod continued to tease, "Alex is the point guard because she's a control freak and likes to boss everyone around."

"Good for you," Kate said. "Reminds me of another girl I know."

"Me?" Mac asked with mock innocence.

"No," Kate responded dryly, "you're a real wallflower. I was referring to my other daughter."

"I didn't know you had a sister, Mackenzie?" Syd said.

"She doesn't," Rod said with a chuckle.

"Oh…"

"Kate," Rod said looking around the kitchen, "it looks like you've been cooking up a storm. Can we do anything to help?"

"Not a thing," Kate answered definitively. "I've got everything handled. This is my domain."

"I can see that. But are you sure we can't pitch in? Syd and Alex can chop vegetables, bake cookies… do dishes."

"He owes the twins a shopping trip," Mac interjected, "so he's looking for a way out."

"You better believe it," he responded as he moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I know what damage these two are capable of and," he paused, "just who it was that got me into this mess."

"Guilty," she answered looking at him over her shoulder.

"Sorry, Rod," Kate told him with a smile, "I'd like to help you out. But I know better than to come between teenage girls and the Mall."

"Looks like you're stuck," Mac said turning towards him.

He pulled her in close and whispered, "That's where you're wrong. You're the one who's stuck… with me."

Their eyes met and for a moment they forgot they weren't alone.

"Are you going with them, Mac?" Kate interrupted with a smile. Her daughter's happiness meant everything to her; and it was becoming increasingly obvious where that happiness lie.

"I hadn't planned on it," she replied moving out of Rod's embrace. "I thought I'd stay and help you."

"Nonsense. I'm fine," Kate assured her. "Go and have a good time."

"I do need to pick up Dad's gift. But what about dinner and the party?"

"Dinner's the four of us and I've got everything else ready," Kate answered. Looking at Rod she explained, "Some friends from Hartford and Bridgeport are stopping by after dinner. Michael's not terribly thrilled about having his increasing age be the excuse to get everyone together… but he'll get over it."

"Sounds fun," he told her. "Are you sure we can't stay and pitch in? Or pick anything up for you?"

"I've got everything I need. But thanks for the offer. Now, get out of here."

"Thanks, Kate," Rod said affectionately with a wink.

"You're welcome." Kate turned to the twins. "I'm glad the two of you came, too. Have fun shopping… spend lots of money."

"We will," Syd and Alex said simultaneously while their big brother groaned.

Mac, on the other hand, smiled affectionately at him and followed it up with a kiss on the cheek, which earned her a wicked grin and a kiss of her own.

"And you two," Kate said to the lovebirds, "I want both of you back here no later than 6:30 p.m. Dress is casual so don't bother changing."

"Yes, Mother," Mac said as she grabbed her purse from the counter.

"Thanks again, Kate," Rod said. "You'll call us if you need anything, right?"

"I will," she assured him. "Oh by the way, your mother called and invited us for Sunday dinner tomorrow?"

"She did?" Mac questioned.

Rod saw how surprised she was by this revelation and felt a little uneasy. "I hope you accepted," he told Kate.

"I did," she assured him with a knowing smile. "Elizabeth and I had a nice talk. I'm excited to meet her and your father."

"They're anxious to meet you and Michael, too," he answered with a conspiratorial grin of his own. He turned to Mackenzie. "You don't mind, do you?" he asked tentatively, almost holding his breath.

"No," she said with a warm smile. Although she'd only met his family today, she liked them very much and already felt comfortable with them. And having her parents and his meet somehow felt right. "I think it's a great idea."

The relief he felt at her response was palpable.

"Good," Kate answered. "Now go have fun and let me get back to work."

"Yes, Ma'am," all four of them replied at once as they left the kitchen.

XXXXXXXXXX

A few hours later Rod sat on a bench at the designated meeting spot waiting for Mac and the twins. They were late. He'd seized the first opportunity to escape from the mind-numbing torture of being held hostage while three women looked at, tried on, and agonized over endless items of clothing in countless stores. In truth, the twins had been thrilled to see him go. They were quite content to hang out with Mackenzie and his credit card. Mac hadn't seemed to mind either. But he was glad she was there to keep an eye on his financial interests. At least he hoped she would be a moderating influence on his sisters.

While the girls had done their thing, he'd purchased the Admiral a birthday gift. Afterwards, he browsed through the book, music and electronics stores. Finally he'd wandered into the Mall's most exclusive jewelry store looking for a Christmas present for Mackenzie. Thanksgiving was next week and, with finals getting closer, this was the perfect opportunity to scope things out. He wasn't looking for a ring. He already had that little item—for whenever that time came. But he wanted something unique. Something she could wear frequently that, like an engagement ring, would be a symbol to her of what she meant to him. It took some time with the designer and several sketches. By the time they finished, however, he was satisfied with the result and the man's promise that the piece would be completed no later than a week before Christmas.

As he waited, his mind kept going back to that fateful night at the movies and to his father's questions and concerns. Nothing and everything had changed since that Saturday night. Stanton hadn't changed. So far as he could tell, Mike still hated him and would do anything to get between him and Mackenzie. Frankly, he was pretty pissed, too. He was done taking crap from him on the basketball court. But Mac had to work with the guy. That had not and would not change until graduation. And he did not want her caught in the middle. So what good would it do to bring up the subject with her? Besides, she'd changed. She had deep scars from the past and she was scared. However, they'd come a long way in their relationship since then and even further together this weekend. Didn't that mean something? That she'd moved on? Certainly her trust in him and in their relationship had grown. As had his desire and need for her had increased.

The truth was that he loved her. He loved her more today than yesterday; and tomorrow, he would love her more than today. He couldn't imagine his life without her in it. He could do it. He just didn't want to do it. And that was the bottom line and the answer to all his dad's concerns. He loved her and he wanted her in his life permanently. In the end, it all came down to where they each fit in the other's life. It wouldn't be easy yet he was certain they could make a go of it. They would be good together and good for each other if they were selfless and put their relationship and eventual family at the top of their priorities. He was more than willing. It was what he wanted more than anything. The real question was whether she ultimately felt and wanted the same.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of three familiar voices. He looked up to see Mac and the twins striding towards him each carrying armfuls of shopping bags. They were wearing different clothes and big smiles. He shook his head. What was it about shopping and spending money that put women in such good moods? However, he had to admit that Mackenzie looked incredible. Every day she got more beautiful.

Mac watched him blatantly look her over and felt her heart rate quicken at his lingering gaze.

As Rod stood to greet them, he said with mock exasperation, "What… did you buy out everything in the stores?"

"Just about," Alex informed him. "We told Mac you wouldn't mind."

"It looks worse than it is," Mac assured him. "But what did you expect leaving us unattended with your credit card?"

"Hmm…" he growled. "Well, turn around." He gestured to the twins and pretended to study them closely while they showed off their new outfits. "Not bad," he finally conceded. "Might even get the two of you a couple of dates if the guys wear thick glasses."

"Very funny," Alex said playfully hitting him in the arm.

He grabbed her arm and affectionately embraced her. "You look good, kiddo. You, too, Sydney."

"Thanks," Syd told him. "But how about Mackenzie?"

Mac smiled. She knew already just what he thought of her appearance.

"Beautiful as always."

"Did you notice her new shoes?" Syd asked.

Both Rod and Mac looked down at her new, very stylish and very expensive shoes with four-inch heels before raising their eyes to each other.

"Very nice," he told her.

"Mac said that she doesn't wear shoes with high heels very often because she's worried they make her too tall," Alex told him. "But I told her it didn't matter because even wearing the tallest heels she could find she still wouldn't be as tall as you."

Mac shrugged.

"True. And even if she was, who cares?" Rod smiled as he addressed the woman in question and was pleased with the look he received. "Now, who wants ice cream?" He broke eye contact with her and looked at the twins.

"Can we?" Syd asked.

"Absolutely. We're not done celebrating," he replied. "Get us a table and we'll be right behind you."

After the twins left, Rod said, "They're crazy about you, you know. They've always wanted a big sister."

"I like them a lot, too. They're pretty special—just like their big brother."

"Thanks… It looks like you all had a good time."

"We did," she agreed. She continued to be amused at how quickly this confident man at her side would change the topic of conversation whenever anyone paid him a compliment. "Your sisters are already champion shoppers."

"You're telling me. But it looks like they're not alone," he teased looking down at her arms laden with shopping bags.

"Oh, yeah? Well, you're not exactly empty-handed," she pointed out. "What's in the bag?"

"A birthday gift for your father."

"You didn't have to do that."

"I know. I wanted to. You said he's crazy about military history. I found a framed photograph of Lincoln with Union Generals McClellan and Custer at Antietam in 1862. I hope he likes it."

"He'll love it. Where did you find it?"

"At a gallery here that specializes in vintage historical and sports photographs."

Thinking about the old baseball photos hanging in his rooms in both Greenwich and New Haven, she told him, "Something tells me you've been there a few times."

"Just a few," he acknowledged with a grin.

"What else did you do?" She'd imagined he'd been bored out of his mind and had expected him to complain about their late arrival.

"This and that," he answered evasively.

She turned her head and looked at him out of the corner of one eye. "What do you mean 'this and that?'"

"I mean," he told her with a cocky grin, "that it's almost Christmas and you shouldn't ask questions."

"I hate surprises, you know."

"I do know… and it makes me like them more." In response he received one of her signature "_I am pretending not to be amused_" looks that he also adored. He closed the distance between them and putting down his package, put his hands on her waist and pulled her up against him until they were inches apart. Bending his head only slightly, he told her, "I love the new clothes but particularly the shoes because…" He finished the thought with a tantalizing kiss that was quick but full of promise.

Instantly she responded to his touch and as he broke contact, she sighed audibly. Almost breathlessly she told him, "We'd better meet the twins."

"Yeah…" He took the packages from her hands and picked up his own.

As they began to walk to the ice cream shop, he asked, "So what else did you buy?"

"This and that," she mimicked.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, you're not the only one who knows how to keep secrets, Mr. Calloway."

He laughed. "Touché, Ms. Allen. Now, how much did this little excursion today set me back?"

"Not too much," Mac assured him again. In truth, she'd chipped in some of her own money. But she didn't want him or the girls to know. She'd had a great time with them despite the age difference. They were intelligent, polite, outgoing and fun. Very much like the man at her side. And they—especially Syd—had a great sense of style. Involuntarily she found herself wondering what David's family would have been like. _Stop it_, she scolded herself, _that's over and you've found something better. Besides they were all probably incredibly stuffy and pretentious—very boring. Not at all like the Calloway family_.

"Well, it doesn't matter," he told her. "So long as you had a good time together."

XXXXXXXXXX

As the four of them sat around a table in the ice cream parlor sharing a huge banana split, Mac found herself laughing aloud as Sydney first impersonated Fran Drescher as "_The Nanny_" and then masterfully mimicked Rebecca.

"That was fantastic," Mac said after Sydney had finished. "Particularly the imitation of your grandmother. Has she seen it?"

"She pretends to be offended and threatens to write Syd out of her will," Rod explained. "But she really gets a kick out of it. So does Dad. He laughs harder than anyone."

"Yeah," Alex added. "He just doesn't like anyone doing it to him."

"That sounds like the Admiral," Mac opined.

"The Admiral?" Syd questioned.

"My father."

"Is he really an Admiral?" Alex followed up. "Or is that a nickname?"

Rod and Mac looked at each other and chuckled.

"Oh, he's an Admiral, all right. United States Navy," Rod responded wryly. "Trust me. He's got the stars, the bars and the intimidation factor to prove it. I'm still shaking from meeting him this morning."

Mac rolled her eyes. She'd never seen Rod intimidated by anyone or anything. "Your brother exaggerates. But I am his only child and he can get a little overprotective."

"Uh oh… you could be in for it," Alex said to Rod.

"It's okay. Mac's mother likes me."

"That's only because she doesn't know you," Alex said with a smirk.

Mac smiled at this exchange and at the identical looks worn by both brother and sister. But there was truth in his words. Her mother did like him. And her mother was nobody's fool.

"Mackenzie, have you ever hear Rod impersonate Mike Meyers from the 'Coffee Talk' skits on _Saturday Night Live_?" Sydney didn't want to be the only one at the table making a fool of herself.

Rod groaned and shook his head. "No way. I only do that for family… not for public consumption."

"Is that all I am?" Mac questioned. "A member of the public?"

"You know better than that," he responded. "It's really not that funny, just something stupid we joke around with at home."

"Come on," she cajoled. "I know the character and she's hilarious—or rather he is."

"Oh okay," he told her with a sigh, "but don't say I didn't warn you." He turned to his sisters. "And you two are in big trouble."

"Whatever," Alex threw back.

"It really is funny," Sydney told Mac, "especially when he puts on a frizzy wig, big glasses and a dress."

"A dress?" Mac asked in disbelief.

"Yeah… an old, frumpy thing with grapefruits for boobs," Alex replied.

"One time… I wore a dress one time," he clarified with a rueful shake of his head. He would find a way to get back at his sisters for this later.

Changing her voice into the clear, nondescript tone of an announcer, Sydney exclaimed, "Ladies and gentleman, the hostest with the mostest…"

"Welcome to Coffee Talk," Rod began. "I'm your host Linda Richman. On this show we talk about coffee, John F. Kennedy Jr's tight buns, Al Gore's miraculous invention of the Internet, and the many hairstyles of Hilary Clinton… you know no big whoop, just Coffee Talk."

Mac began to chuckle at his words, hand gestures, facial expressions and his overstated female New York Jewish accent.

"The big news today," he said placing his hand over his heart, "is that I, Linda Richman, saw Barbra Joan Streisand in concert in Las Vegas, Nevada." He paused and took an exaggerated breath. "She was so beautiful, and her voice was like buttah." He sighed loudly. "I know. Can you believe it? Me and Barbra Joan Streisand, together…. But wait, it gets better. She invited me on stage." He raised one hand towards heaven. "Swear to God, I was on stage with Barbra Joan Streisand. It was just like being a member of the studio audience at _The Price is Right_ and hearing the words, 'Linda Richman… Come on down.' I nearly wept with excitement."

The twins began to laugh hard. They hadn't heard this one before.

Mac, too, began to laugh. He was often fun and teasing but this was a side of him she hadn't seen before. She could only imagine what it must be like with him in a wig, glasses and a dress. He must look like Klinger from _MASH_ having a bad hair day. No wonder he was elected Student Body President for two years in high school.

Rod brushed a pretend tear from his eye. "I'm getting a little verklempt." He reverently crossed both arms over his chest. "Talk amongst yourself," he told them in a choked up voice while making circles in the air with his hands, palm down.

Mac and the twins began to laugh even harder.

Looking at Mac, he immediately followed with, "I'll give you a topic: Brown University is neither a color, nor a universe, nor a city. Discuss!"

When the meaning of his words sank into Mac's conscious mind, she lost it completely to the point of having tears in her eyes. Watching her reaction, Rod soon lost it, too, followed closely by the twins. It took multiple attempts at repeated deep breathing combined with several drinks of water before they were able to contain themselves. Fortunately they were sitting at a corner booth and the place was mostly empty.

"Mackenzie," Syd said after they finally quieted down, "you forgot to tell us how Rod gave you the sweatshirt."

"Yeah," Alex agreed.

Rod, too, was very curious as to what she would say. They hadn't talked about it much Thursday evening when they'd had dinner at the condo because they, at his instigation, had quickly become distracted.

"Well," Mac told the girls, "we got into a little argument on Wednesday because your brother can sometimes be stubborn and pigheaded."

Both girls laughed.

"Now there's a perfect example of the pot calling the kettle black," their brother informed them.

"Whatever, Roderic," Mac told him, mimicking the irreverent voice Alex had previously used with him. "This is my story."

"Yes, ma'am."

The twins looked at each other in amazement because no one other than their grandmother ever got away with using his given first name.

"Anyway," Mac continued, "that night was my roommate's big piano recital and he shows up immediately before the recital and then leaves directly afterwards. Hardly says a word… just disappears. Later there's a knock at the door by an earnest young man carrying a wrapped gift and a single red rose."

"The sweatshirt?" Syd asked.

"Uh huh," Mac shook her head, "with a written apology that said if I forgave him I was to wear the shirt at school the next day. Now, I admit that at first I thought the sweatshirt was totally embarrassing. I wasn't going to wear it but my roommate and best friend talked me into it."

Alex thought it was embarrassing, too. "No way would I have worn that," she insisted.

"If Pete Dawson gave it to you and told you to wear it," her twin pointed out, "you would so wear it."

"Pete Dawson, huh?" Rod teased.

"Maybe," Alex answered evasively before turning towards Mac. "So what happened next?"

"What happened next is that I tried to call your brother to see if we could meet for breakfast. That way I could show him I was wearing the shirt and then immediately take it off. Only he wouldn't answer his phone." She looked at him. "Why didn't you answer?"

He shrugged and said nonchalantly, "The battery must have died."

"Yeah, right!" she exclaimed, having picked up this particular phrase from the youngest members of the Calloway family.

The twins grinned because they, too, knew how obsessive he was about technology and stuff like keeping cars washed and batteries charged.

"So when did you find him?" Alex questioned.

"I didn't," Mac responded. "I couldn't find him all day—anywhere. I went and waited outside every one of his classes until after class started. And he never showed. You wouldn't believe all the teasing I took from his classmates and mine about what was written on the shirt. Even my professors let me have it."

"What?" both twins said simultaneously.

"Yeah… the Dean of the law school, no less."

"Mac," Rod explained with a smug grin, "has a history of interesting encounters with the Dean during class."

"Which was all your fault for making me late," she reminded him. "Wait a minute. That earlier encounter was your fault… and this time I swear he didn't see me come in. It was almost like he was planning to call on me, planning to give me a hard time." She turned to face him directly. "You didn't really? You wouldn't dare?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said innocently.

"What happened?" Syd inquired.

"You can't leave it like that," Alex added.

Mac didn't answer immediately. She was trying to decide if he had really done what she thought he'd done.

"Come on," Syd begged. "You have to tell us."

Mac turned around. "Do you know how your brother and I met?"

"Yeah," Alex said. "You weren't watching where you were going and ran into him on the first day of class. Said he got the wind knocked out of him."

Mac shook her head while rolling her eyes. "That's your story, huh?"

"Well, you did run into me… and your beauty took my breath away."

Again she shook her head only this time while looking at the ceiling. "He was the one," she told the twins, "who wasn't looking where he was going. And I was the one who ended up on my butt with my books scattered everywhere."

When it became apparent that Mac was telling the truth both twins began to giggle because that must have been some collision for her to end up on the ground.

"He didn't tell us that," Syd informed her.

"I didn't want to embarrass you, honey," he tried to explain. "I wanted to leave you some grace and dignity. But don't worry, I also didn't tell them that you called me 'the mountain' or that you thought I was some dumb jock who was in the wrong building."

In spite of herself, she couldn't help but smile. Months later, he still had the same almost breathless, overwhelming effect on her; and he continued to exasperate and amaze her, leave her speechless and make her laugh—often all at the same time.

"What did your meeting have to do with the Dean?" Alex interrupted.

"I was late to class because of our collision. And that's something you want to avoid at all costs when the Dean is teaching. So I barely find an empty seat close to the door when I hear his booming voice calling my name. '_Nice of you to join us this morning, Ms. Allen. Since you're here and already standing perhaps you'd be kind enough to brief the next case.'_ I start telling him the facts and he tells me I'm wrong. I respond that I'm reading the facts from the book and he insists that I'm wrong. Finally, without thinking I tell him, _'Well, I didn't write the book.'_"

"What's wrong with that?" Sydney asked.

"What's wrong is that he _did_ write the book and didn't like being upstaged or having the entire class laughing at him. So he made me stand there and answer increasingly hard questions the rest of class."

"That sounds awful," Syd said. "Are all teachers like that? Why would anyone want to go to law school?"

"Most professors aren't that bad. But it's definitely no picnic," Rod told them. "I had three male classmates actually leave class in tears those first couple of days."

"No way am I going to law school," Alex announced.

"You get used to it pretty quick," Mac assured her. "And once you do, it's actually fun."

Alex didn't buy the garbage about humiliation being 'fun' for a minute. "You guys are crazy."

Rod and Mackenzie smiled at each other. Law school, and its accompanying mental exercises of thinking quickly and speaking clearly on your feet, was an environment that one either thrived in and loved or absolutely hated. There was very little middle ground. And they loved it.

"What happened with the Dean and the sweatshirt?" Sydney was particularly curious about this part of the story.

"Well, I waited for Rod outside his classroom so I could show him the shirt. Only he never showed. But because of that, I was again late to the Dean's class. This time, however, I swear he didn't see me come in because he was busy grilling someone else. Apparently I was wrong. When he finished he immediately called on me. As I stood up, he said, '_As you were yet again late, Ms. Allen, perhaps you'd be so kind to as to give us a report on your success this morning in finding that real man? That is why you're late, isn't it?_' The entire class laughed at his comments. And it's not a small class. I'm talking more than a hundred people."

The way she mimicked the Dean and the thought of all those people laughing, made Alex laugh, too. It also affirmed her decision never to attend law school.

Rod, meanwhile, sat silently amused. This, he realized, was better than he'd ever imagined. He was only sorry that he hadn't been there to personally witness the exchange.

"What did you tell him?" Syd never expected that Mac would have to go through something like this when Rod gave her the sweatshirt. And where was her brother all day? She looked at him and instantly knew that there was much more to this story than even Mackenzie knew about. She couldn't wait to get the real story from him later. He never did anything on a whim, though it may sometimes appear that way.

"I told him that I'd had no luck."

"And what did he say?" Alex asked anxiously.

"He said, '_Well, it's still early in the day, Ms. Allen... still very early in the day._' Then he asked me to brief the next case." Thinking about the Dean's actual words left her feeling absolutely certain that this exchange with him was not coincidental. She'd been set up. She just didn't know why.

"Did he make you stand the rest of class and ask you tough questions again?" Syd was worried about just how much Mackenzie had gone through because of the sweatshirt that she had made.

"No… he was actually very easy on me. Which is strange, come to think of it."

"That's good." Syd felt better knowing that it really wasn't too bad. But she was definitely going to have a talk with her brother. He loved to tease but it wasn't like him to deliberately set out to humiliate someone—particularly someone he loved. And he loved Mackenzie.

"When did you finally see Rod?" Alex questioned.

"He surprised me right after my night class ended. He came into the room without my knowing it, kissed me, said he'd pick me up at eight for dinner and then he disappeared again." Thinking about his kiss made her immediately feel warm. She'd spent that entire class period still somewhat frustrated with him, his sweatshirt and his disappearing act. And yet, in an instant she'd responded to his touch and had forgotten about everything except for the way he made her feel—the way he always made her feel.

Alex turned her attention to her big brother who, she noticed, was silently sitting with a smug look on his face. "Where were you all day?"

"Here and there," he answered evasively.

Mac picked up the line of inquiry. "What does that mean?"

He shrugged. "I went to class in the morning. Don't know how you missed me."

"All my fault, I'm sure," she responded dryly but with a definite twinkle in her eyes.

"You must have been looking in the wrong places," he innocently suggested.

"Undoubtedly. And what about the afternoon?"

"I had stuff to do."

"What stuff" she asked suspiciously.

"Stuff for Friday. Boats and smores don't magically appear out of thin air, do they?"

She smiled and looked him directly in the eyes. She knew how much thought and effort he'd put into their date on the Sound. "No, they don't," she agreed softly. "And neither does very cool, very warm boat gear."

"Very sexy boat gear for a very beautiful woman," he added quietly meeting her gaze.

The twins observed this exchange with keen interest. While waiting for Rod and Mac to join them, they'd talked and had mutually decided that they wanted her for their sister in law… and the sooner, the better.

Rod caught sight of the big clock on the wall. It was almost 5:30 p.m. "We better get going if we're going to get the twins home and get back to your house on time."

Mac looked at her watch. "You're right."

He handed her the keys. "Why don't the three of you start walking to the car. I'll pay the bill and catch up."

"Okay, Ms. Richman," she whispered giving him a kiss on the cheek, "thanks for the ice cream and for making me smile."


	29. Mother Knows Best

**29. Mother Knows Best**

When Michael walked into the house through the garage late in the afternoon he found Kate, as expected, in the kitchen, standing at the stove with her back towards him. He smiled. It was her favorite room in the house. Katherine Spencer Allen loved to cook. However, her affinity for this spot went beyond mere food preparation. Whenever he arrived home, more often than not, she was here waiting for him. He knew their daughter's experience was much the same. She was always there for them. Over the years, she'd proven to be the perfect Navy wife: strong, independent and yet willing to embrace and make the most of their time together without regret or recrimination. And she'd done a remarkable job raising their daughter.

"Something smells delicious," he exclaimed. "Is that my favorite cornbread stuffing?"

Kate jumped. Turning around to face him with her free hand pressed against the base of her neck, she said, "You scared me. I didn't hear you come in."

He closed the distance between them. "Sorry," he told her as he kissed her on the cheek. As he pulled back he studied her close. "Something on your mind?"

"Yes. No. I don't know," she stammered with a furrowed brow. "I was thinking about Mackenzie and Rod. You know, she doesn't ever say much. I expected him… Well, I expected him to be different—more flashy, less real, if that makes sense."

"I think I understand." He'd spent the day thinking about this young man and his relationship with his only child. It had proven most distracting and of no benefit to his golf game. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but there was something familiar about young Calloway—in his demeanor, his manner, and even his name. It was nothing bad he was sure, but nevertheless, it was unsettling to him. Unable to restrain himself, he reached in to sample the stuffing. "Delicious," he told his wife as he licked his finger. "And have you reached any conclusions?"

"I like him, Michael," she answered with a sigh, though her brow was still etched with concern. "Much more than I thought I would. I don't know what I really expected. They just fit. It's obvious he loves her. And she loves him. I'm sure of it. But…"

"But you worry?" he asked indulgently.

"Yes."

He took the big spoon from her hand, turned off the stove and led her to the table.

Kate took a deep breath as she sat down. "You know how she was when she came home from Jerusalem for Christmas, and how she was still when she returned after graduation six months later." Kate looked at her husband, the man she'd loved since she was fifteen. They'd been lucky to find each other when they were so young and when life was relatively uncomplicated. "The light in her countenance—her joy in living—was gone, completely wiped out. She put on a happy face and immersed herself in her work. But emotionally she'd shut down. You know that. And yes, it's gotten better the past two and a half years. I worry though that it's only because she's learned to bury the pain and avoid it rather than truly moving on."

"What makes you say that?" he asked. "To me, she seems back to her old self—particularly after last night."

"I don't know," she acknowledged. "Mother's intuition, I guess. Yes, the light was back last night and today. And it terrifies me."

"Why? I don't understand."

"I know. I'm not sure I understand either." She looked at her husband more closely. "Does Rod see beneath the surface, do you think? I mean, does he truly know and understand her? Does he know what she went through? Understand that her strong and confident demeanor is both who she is and also a mask to hide the pain and fear?"

He took her hand and gently caressed her knuckles with his thumb. "Honey, I don't have those answers. I wish I did. Look, I know you worry. So do I. But I trust your judgment. What do your instincts tell you about him and about their relationship?"

She sighed. "I realize we haven't had much time with him. Maybe that's why I'm unsure. He definitely comes from money, but he doesn't seem to be spoiled or self-absorbed. Obviously, her height doesn't bother him. Doesn't it strike you as unusual though that he's not at all intimidated by her intelligence and position as Editor in Chief? He's a first year and she's a third year."

"You're right. He doesn't appear to be a typical first semester graduate student. He seems more certain than that—more sure."

"And yet beneath the confidence, there's a quiet strength to him, and a gentleness, I think. I can't believe I'm saying this. We only met him today. But he may be exactly the man she needs."

This time it was his turn to take a deep breath. His wife was rarely wrong about people. Was he ready to lose his little girl? "You may be right," he commented. "Wouldn't that be a good thing?"

"Yes," she told him. "It would be wonderful. But does he see it that way? More to the point, does she? Has she moved on? Is she ready and willing to open her heart fully again? And does he understand what a precious gift that would be?" She paused and shook her head. "It would kill me to see her hurt again."

"I would kill the bastard."

Kate couldn't stop the smile that appeared at his simple yet unequivocal response. "But what if she's the one responsible for the hurt? What if she's too afraid to open up? Or what if she doesn't know how to accept the past for what it is and move on to embrace the present and future?" She paused, her brow again becoming furrowed. "I sense she's holding back and I'm not sure she's even aware of it. And what if she doesn't recognize it? Doesn't come to grips with it?"

"I don't know." He held on to her hand tighter. "What I do know is this: Last night and this morning our daughter was back. Maybe she has let go of the past. We'll just have to pray that she has and that he is that man we want him to be." He brought her hand tenderly to his lips. Afterwards he said, "There is one thing…"

"What?"

"I wish we knew more about his family and his background. What are his parents like? His siblings? How is he like with them? I would feel better if I knew more—understood more—about where he comes from, how he was raised, and what his expectations are for her and their relationship."

Kate laughed silently. His calm, unconcerned demeanor was nothing more than an act and an attempt to comfort and reassure her. He was, in fact, as worried as she—worried that Rod wasn't good enough for his daughter—his pride and joy. "Does that mean you plan to play big, bad military dad and interrogate him over dinner?"

"Maybe," he conceded with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Well, Admiral, you don't need to learn everything about him tonight. You'll have more time with him and the entire Calloway family tomorrow."

"What are you talking about?"

"We're having Sunday dinner with his family."

"We are?" He was surprised. "When did that happen?"

"Elizabeth Calloway called me this afternoon and made the invitation. We had a nice chat. She was easy to talk to—no pretension, very down to earth. And, of course, I accepted."

"Of course," he responded dryly. "What did Mac say about it? I mean, she does know about it, doesn't she?" Their daughter on occasion didn't cope well with surprises—like this appeared to be.

"She's fine with it," Kate assured him with a knowing smile.

"That's a relief. Where is she, anyway? I thought she'd be here helping you. Did she at least call?"

"Don't worry," she chuckled. "You won't need to ground her or send her to timeout."

"Kate…"

"She's out with Rod and his twin sisters. They came back early this afternoon. I had things well in hand and told her to go. Somehow she'd convinced him to take the girls shopping this afternoon so I thought it only fair that he at least have her company."

"Poor guy," Michael muttered. "Nothing worse than an afternoon at the mall with three women."

"His sisters are terrific, by the way—personable and polite, particularly for teenagers. Much like he is, in fact. The three of them are clearly close. And Mac seemed relaxed, open and at ease with them which..."

"Which is unusual for our reserved daughter considering she met them only this morning. See," he told her, "there's probably nothing to worry about. And if something to the contrary comes out at dinner, it's not too late to lock her in that tall tower or pull out my sword and challenge him to a duel."

"Thanks. It's nice having this conversation in person rather than long distance over the phone."

"Yes, it is." He gave her hand a final squeeze and stood up. "I'll quickly shower and change and then come back to help you."

XXXXXXXXXX

Michael was setting the table when Rod and Mackenzie arrived. He heard their laughter long before they saw him in the dining room, which was located to the right of the front entry hall.

"It's about time you got home, baby," he called out. "I thought you were going to help your Mom."

Rod and Mac looked at each other.

"Are we in trouble?" he whispered to her. "Because this isn't exactly how I hoped this evening would go."

"I don't think so," she whispered back. "At least I hope not."

"Hi, Dad," she said cheerfully as they joined him in the dining room.

"Sorry, we're late, sir," Rod interjected. "It's all my fault."

Michael immediately noticed all the shopping bags he was carrying. "Rod, I know all about what happens when you put my daughter and a shopping mall together. Somehow I doubt those bags you're carrying have anything to do with you." With a knowing look he asked, "The real question is how you managed to survive the experience?"

Before Rod could answer, Kate entered the room carrying a beautiful pork roast. Looking at the new arrivals, she said, "Good. You're just in time." She, too, immediately noticed all the shopping bags and the new clothes on Mac. "You had a successful afternoon, I see. Get rid of that stuff and let's eat."

"Be right back," Mac said to her parents before turning to Rod. Reaching for the shopping bags she told him, "I can take those now."

He shook his head. "No need. I've got them. Just lead the way."

"Thanks."

As Kate watched them head for the stairs, she noticed that not only was her daughter wearing new clothes, but new four-inch heels, too. _Very revealing_, she thought.


	30. Bridgeport

**30. Bridgeport**

"What's for dinner, Mom?" Mac said as she and Rod re-entered the dining room. In truth, she wasn't at all hungry after lunch in Greenwich and ice cream at the mall. Fortunately, Rod was always eager to eat.

"Maple glazed pork loin," Kate responded.

"Dad's favorite. I should have known." Without looking at the table, she immediately turned to Rod. "Let me guess: Cornbread stuffing. Carrots. And broccoli with a cheese sauce."

Rod surveyed the table. "Cornbread stuffing. Carrots. But no…" He got no further, however, before Michael entered the room carrying one last platter of food. "And broccoli with cheese sauce," he said with a smile.

"See?" Mac responded with a knowing smile aimed at her mother.

"Personally, Kate, I'm relieved," Rod told her.

"Relieved about what?" Michael questioned, setting the broccoli on the table.

"Relieved that my family aren't the only predictable ones when it comes to food combinations."

"Not that it matters to him," Mac informed her parents. "He's never met a meal he didn't like."

"Guilty as charged."

"A man I can relate to," Michael said. "What are we waiting for? Let's eat."

"Rod, I've got you next to Mackenzie," Kate gestured to one side of the table.

"Thank you, Kate." He moved to the appropriate side of the table, pulled out one of the chairs for Mackenzie and then sat next to her.

"Mac," Michael said once they were all seated, "why don't you bless the food."

"Sure." She reached across the table for her father's outstretched hand and almost immediately felt Rod take her other hand and give it a little squeeze. She said the prayer and the four of them began to eat.

Rod almost laughed aloud over how orderly and peaceful this meal was compared to lunch with his family.

"Dad, how was your golf game today?" Mac asked eventually.

"Lousy," he responded with a smile. "But the weather was perfect and I enjoyed every minute of it."

"My father was envious that you were able to spend the entire day on the links," Rod told him.

"I guess if you have to turn a year older, might as well have a good time. I hear the soccer game was intense. A shootout?"

"Yes, sir."

"Sydney was incredible," Mac added. "MVP of the State tournament. Virtually nothing got by her."

"That's great." He looked at Rod. "Is that how you ended up at the mall all afternoon?"

"I owe that to your daughter, sir. She got the twins worked up and I was stuck."

Michael and Kate laughed.

"Don't let him kid you," Mac protested. "Within fifteen minutes he'd fled the scene of the crime."

"Leaving you with my credit card."

"Smart move to get out," Michael said. "But big mistake leaving my daughter in charge of your bank account."

"Now you tell me."

"Some lessons you have to learn by experience."

"Thanks for the tip."

"Your sisters are darling. And you also have a younger brother?" Kate asked.

"Christopher," Rod acknowledged. "He's fourteen and a typical teenager. Lunch tomorrow, I'm afraid, will be much louder and crazier than dinner tonight."

"Sounds perfect," Kate assured him.

"Far from perfect."

"But never dull," Mac added.

"No," Rod assented, "never dull."

"I enjoyed talking with your mother today. She was kind to invite us over tomorrow."

"She's looking forward to it—both my parents are."

"Tell us about them," Michael said.

"Well, my father is Will. He, too, went to Yale and then followed his father into the banking business. He works hard but he's always been there for us. And he knows how to relax and enjoy life. My mother, Elizabeth, is quieter. She's got a gentle touch and an iron will."

"They're wonderful," Mac told her parents. "Both of them are only children. I've met Rod's paternal grandmother, Rebecca, and Will is a lot like her. His grandfather died when Rod was eight. Elizabeth, however, was orphaned at the age of four and was raised by a great aunt and uncle, who both died before she was twenty-one. She earned a scholarship at Columbia and graduated in Chemistry. She'd even been accepted to the top medical schools but gave it up to be home with her family."

Rod was surprised and pleased that Mackenzie knew his mother's story. Elizabeth Calloway didn't open up to many people—not because she was ashamed of, or traumatized by, her history. Rather, she was private and introspective. Of course, Mac wasn't the only one who'd learned about his mother today. He, too, had learned a new piece of her history.

Mac continued, "They had one of those 'love at first sight' relationships that almost seems too good to be true. They met and married in a matter of months." She still found that part of Calloway family history to be amazing. _Where did they find the courage?_

"That's true," Rod said. "To hear my father, he took one look at my mother and that was it. There was nobody else for him. They've been together ever since. How did the two of you meet?"

Michael and Kate looked at each other and smiled.

"Well, we definitely took a little longer," Michael explained.

"Years longer," Kate added. "We met in high school when Michael and his mother moved to Hartford. Michael's father, too, was a career Navy man and he'd promised that Michael could attend one high school without having to move."

"The same promise Dad made to me," Mac told Rod.

"And," Michael said, "since my mother had been raised in Hartford, that's where we settled. Kate and I met the first week of tenth grade. We were both fifteen."

"We became friends and then something more," Kate said. "We were young. Fortunately, we recognized early on that it would be many years before we could actually be together."

"Despite all the sacrifices required by military families, I wanted to attend the Naval Academy like my father. Academy rules prohibited Cadets from being married. In fact, there wasn't much time to even date. But Kate was patient and we got married immediately after my graduation."

"Of course, we didn't see each other much for several years after that because of Vietnam," Kate told them.

"That must have been tough," Rod said.

Silently Mac agreed. She knew her parents history, of course. But it hadn't hit her until tonight how hard those lengthy separations must have been over the years.

"We've never experienced anything else—it's the only thing we know," Kate explained. "So we make the most of the time we're together, which thanks to age and rank is a lot more than we used to have."

"What was Mac like as a little girl?" Rod asked. "I mean, I know she had to be brilliant, cute and stubborn," he teased. "But I haven't heard many stories about her—and between my family and friend, Cooper, she's heard far too many about me."

Mac groaned and elbowed him while her parents laughed.

"She was both precocious and stubborn," Michael agreed.

"That's true," Kate told him. "She walked at nine months and knew the alphabet and all of the nursery rhymes before she was eighteen months."

Rod grinned. "I'm not surprised. She's the smartest person in the law school—including most of the professors."

"And one day," Michael added, "when she was not quite two, a friend of my mother's said to her, 'Mackenzie, I hear you can count to twenty. Will you count for me?' And Mac replied, with hands on her hips, 'Forwards or backwards?'"

On hearing this anecdote, Rod laughed out loud. _That_, he thought, _is a perfect summation of the woman he'd come to know and love._ He decided that if they ever had a daughter, he wanted her to be just like her mother. He turned to Mackenzie and said, "That's so you!"

She said nothing in response, but raised her eyebrow and shrugged.

Michael, however, saw the pride Rod felt in his daughter and he was pleased. "But my favorite memory concerns Mac and _Goldilocks and the Three Bears_."

Mac shook her head.

"From the time she was very little, Mac loved books. She would sit for hours looking at them, and she was always demanding that someone read to her. The first time we read her the story of the three bears, she cried when she heard that Goldilocks sat on Baby Bear's chair and it broke. After that, she would never let us read that part. Instead she would physically turn the page."

As he told this story, Michael watched Rod closely. When he saw the tender expression on the young man's face, he was relieved. Rod did know and understand his daughter.

Kate, on the other hand, knew how much their daughter hated this particular story. Mackenzie hated tears and mistakenly believed them to be an intolerable sign of weakness. "Of course, she also refused to be potty trained," she said. "For months I would put her on the toilet and she would sit there for hours without doing what she was supposed to… but immediately after I let her off she would go on the living room floor."

Mac covered her face with her hand in embarrassment before complaining to Rod, "I was only two."

"And you knew exactly what you were doing," Michael responded. "Just like how you would punish me for a few days by refusing to look at me, or speak to me, whenever I came home from being at sea."

"You know I don't remember any of that," Mac said with secret look she directed to her father. This particular piece of family lore had become a running joke between she and "the Admiral." Both of them well knew that she was, in fact, her father's daughter.

"However, that stubbornness has also served her well," Kate told Rod. "When she was a toddler she had a bad experience in a swimming pool that left her badly shaken. For years she refused to go near a body of water. But when we moved to Hartford several of her new friends crewed and she didn't want to be left out. Everyday she went to the pool at 5:30 a.m. and made herself learn to swim. Then she went out on the river and practiced until she became the strongest rower on the high school team."

"That I can believe," Rod said. "I've seen her out on the river. She's the master. It's almost Zen-like." He turned and caught Mac's attention. He could tell from her expression that she, too, was remembering their times together there.

After a moment, Mac broke eye contact and turned back towards her parents, seated across the table. "Are we done with me yet?"

"Oh, I don't know," Michael playfully responded. "We haven't even touched on the teen years."

"Dad…"

"We're done," he conceded.

"How do you like law school?" Kate asked Rod.

"I like it now." Rod shook his head. "That first month or so was tough. Mackenzie and Cooper have been a huge help."

"Cooper Young?"

"Yes, sir."

"Rod and Cooper grew up together in Greenwich," Mac informed her parents.

Michael liked him and, until Rod, he'd secretly hoped that Cooper and Mac would get together.

"How are Cooper and Carl?" Kate asked her daughter. "And Mike?"

"Same as always: Carl's stressing and Cooper appears not to have a care in the world. And Mike is fine, intense as ever. She could feel Rod's demeanor change. She didn't want to talk about Mike—not here, not tonight. "It wouldn't surprise me if Carl didn't propose to Sue soon and Cooper seems to be pretty serious with Kim. You haven't met her. She's great. She graduates in June, pre-med."

"Speaking of Carl," Kate informed her, "his parents will be here tonight."

"Good. It's been a while."

Kate looked at Rod. "Carl's mother, Betty, and I grew up together. Mac and I moved back to Hartford when she was in high school, and coincidentally moved into the same neighborhood as the Brantleys. Betty and I renewed our acquaintance and Mac and Carl became fast friends and ended up not only attending Brown together but also law school."

"Carl's a good guy. It will be fun to meet his parents."

"Can you believe you graduate in six months?" Kate said to Mac.

"I have to admit that it's going fast. Three years seemed like an eternity when we started."

"They still do," Rod said wryly.

"Rod," Michael asked, "what are your career plans? Do you know?"

"I promised my father I'd work at the bank this summer. He's not exactly happy about law school but he's learning to accept it. After I graduate, I'm not sure. Maybe the U.S. Attorney's Office or something similar."

"Did you always plan on becoming a lawyer?"

"No, sir," Rod answered with a slight chuckle. "Growing up, the only career goal I ever had was to pitch for the Boston Red Sox. When I tore my rotator cuff in my junior year of college, I didn't want to change positions so I gave the game up. At that time I wasn't sure what I wanted to do—only that I didn't want to go into the family business. Banking, trading and investing are fun but not what I want to do everyday for the rest of my life. Instead I focused on rehabbing my arm and graduating early before enlisting for three years. Eventually I decided on law. I took the LSAT last December and fortunately ended up back in New Haven." Resting a hand on Mac's thigh, he added, "Obviously, the smartest decision I ever made."

"You served in the military?" Kate asked in surprise. Why hadn't Mac mentioned this before?

She, however, was as surprised as her mother. Only she did a much better job of hiding that fact. How did she not know he'd served? She knew he'd spent time in Europe between undergraduate and law school. But she'd assumed that he'd been merely working or traveling there.

"Army," Rod answered with a nod.

"We'll try not to hold that against you," Michael informed him, nonetheless, impressed.

"I appreciate that, sir."

"Were you stationed Stateside?"

"No, sir. I graduated in August of 1990 and almost immediately began basic and officer training. Soon after that I was deployed to Kuwait and Saudi and then assigned to First Armored in Germany after the war was over."

"Did you see action?"

"Some—mostly artillery, air defense. Experienced enough of the dessert to last a lifetime, I'm afraid."

"That's the good thing about being stuck on a boat, I suppose," Michael said thoughtfully. "No sandstorms or 115 degree temperatures in the shade. Of course, there's also not much to look at from the bottom of the ocean." No wonder he didn't intimidate this young man. Of course, it also explained the familiarity in his manner and demeanor. But why would an Ivy League graduate with no desire to make the military a career, enlist during a time of war?

"I bet your mother hated every minute you spent in the Middle East," Kate commented.

"Yes, ma'am," Rod agreed. "My dad and grandmother had mixed feelings about it, too. My grandfather served in the Pacific theater during World War II. He was gone for three years and was injured a few times while out on a PT boat. As a result, Dad was raised with a great respect for those who serve but also with a personal understanding of the cost. I was lucky we fought this war for limited objectives and that it ended quick."

"Your grandfather wouldn't be Gabriel Calloway by chance?"

"Yes, sir." Rod was taken aback.

"Rod was named after him," Mac told her parents.

"Did you know him?" Rod asked.

"Not me. My father, James Allen. Gabriel served under him for two years, I believe. My father was most impressed with your grandfather."

At this revelation, Rod and Mackenzie looked at each other with utter shock on their faces.

Kate, too, was astounded. "I didn't know that. Why didn't you say something earlier?"

"Because, my dear," Michael patted her hand, "I didn't make the connection myself until Rod mentioned that his family was in banking and that his grandfather had spent years in the Pacific on PT boats." Of course, calling the Calloway financial empire a mere "bank" was a gross understatement. Michael doubted his daughter had any real understanding concerning the wealth and power of the Calloway family. His wife, too, would be amazed. However, for the moment it probably was best they didn't know.

"Well, that is simply incredible. What a small world indeed," Kate said, still in shock.

Rod and Mackenzie, meanwhile, continued to stare at each other in amazement, trying to wrap their minds around the new reality that their grandfathers had been closely acquainted fifty years earlier.

Michael was amused to see the bewildered expressions on their faces. Recognizing he'd now unexpectedly been presented with the perfect opportunity to speak with young Calloway alone, he said, "Rod, there are some photographs you might find interesting in my study. Come on, I'll show them to you… if you two will excuse us."

"Yes, sir." Rod momentarily looked inquisitively at Mackenzie. Then he took a deep breath and patted her knee under the table as he stood and followed her father down the hall and into the study. Although Michael's invitation seemed innocent enough, it felt like he was being led to the executioner's chamber, particularly when the door was shut behind them.

XXXXXXXXXX

Rod took a minute to internally calm himself under the guise of surveying his surroundings. Walking around the room, he quickly realized that Mac had not exaggerated her father's interest in military history. Photographs and maps covered the walls. The bookshelves were filled with history books and biographies of great military leaders both ancient and modern while nautical paraphernalia dotted the desk. He watched anxiously as Michael removed a photo album from one of the shelves and set it down on the desk.

"Come on over. I think you'll enjoy seeing these shots."

He took a quick breath and went and stood next to Michael. The album was open to a group shot of young sailors on the deck of a small ship. Immediately he picked his grandfather out because of his height. Gabriel Roderic Calloway was an inch taller than his grandson and a head taller than anyone else in the photo except for the sailor on his left. "He looks so young," Rod commented. "But in reality he was about my age. Sir, is your father in this photo?"

"He is. In fact, he's standing next to your grandfather on the left."

As he thought about it, Rod wasn't at all surprised that James Allen, too, was at least three inches taller than anyone other than his grandfather. After all, Mackenzie stood six feet tall in her bare feet, making her the perfect physical match for him. Then he had another crazy thought: _What would these two men think about a relationship—and marriage—between their grandchildren?_ Of course, he knew what his grandmother thought. He studied the picture more closely. "He looks like you, sir."

Michael chuckled. "He does. And you look a great deal like Gabriel. I'd say you were appropriately named."

"Thank you, sir."

"Rod, please call me Michael. You're not under my chain of command and you're making me feel old."

"Sorry, sir… Michael." He smiled sheepishly. "Is this the only photograph you have of my grandfather?"

"No, there are several more. I'll show you. Fortunately, my father was an amateur historian and genealogist who collected photographs and kept a detailed journal."

"My father and grandmother would love seeing these pictures and I'd love to learn more about him."

"Will your grandmother be joining us for dinner tomorrow?"

"I'm sure she will."

"Well, I'll bring the books and we can all enjoy them."

"Thanks. That would be great." He relaxed as he was beginning to feel more comfortable with this man who was so important to his future.

The two of them spent the next few minutes looking at other similar photographs. Seeing Gabriel so young and vibrant again made Rod sad that his grandfather had died so young and that he didn't get to have more of a relationship with him. He also regretted that he was deprived the opportunity to introduce Mackenzie to him. And it occurred to him that he knew almost nothing about Mackenzie's grandparents. "Are your parents still alive?"

"No. They were killed in a car accident a month before Mac turned three." Michael closed the photo album and turned to put it back on the shelf.

"I'm sorry."

"Me, too," he said turning back towards Rod. "It was a huge loss—much like that of your grandfather."

"Yeah." Rod took a deep breath. "Michael," he said looking Mac's father in the eye, "you didn't bring me in here simply to show me old photographs."

In response a smile appeared at the corner of his face as Michael studied his young companion for a moment. "No, I didn't," he conceded. "Are you always this direct?" He'd never had a boyfriend of Mac's actually initiate a discussion with him. Of course, he hadn't had many conversations with her male friends, period. They avoided him like the plague. Except for Carl, who'd been her best friend since they were fifteen, and more recently, Cooper.

"No." Rod paused a moment. "But I doubt you'd respect anything else and I have nothing to hide."

"Good," Michael stated, as their eyes remained focused on one another. "That's the way it should be. Let's sit down." He pointed Rod to a leather sofa while he removed a chair from the desk and sat down facing him.

After a minute of silence between them Michael asked, "Do you love her?" He had a good idea of the answer but he wanted to see if Rod was man enough to admit it—particularly to him.

"Very much."

"Are you in this relationship for the long haul?"

"Yes," he responded unequivocally. "She is the only woman I've ever loved; and she is the one I want to build a life with and raise a family."

Michael was momentarily stunned by this unequivocal declaration from him. This was the conversation that every father looked forward to with great pride and dreaded with equal sorrow; and it was entirely new territory for him. "Rod, are you asking me permission to marry Mac?"

Rod was similarly floored by Michael's pointed question. "I certainly hadn't planned on doing so tonight," he admitted. "But not because of any indecision or lack of commitment on my part—only because she's not ready." He paused and took a deep breath. "However, now that the subject has come up. Yes, sir, I am asking for your daughter's hand in marriage when the time is right."

This formal request, Michael had to admit, was not completely unforeseen given his recent conversations with his wife and his own observations of the two of them together. He'd always known that eventually this day would come. Yet suddenly he found himself not at all prepared to face the harsh reality of letting go of his little girl to another man—any other man.

Rod saw the expression on his face. Michael looked like he'd been unexpectedly punched in the gut. And that, he surmised, could only mean trouble. "If you have questions about me—or problems with our relationship—I hope you'll tell me what they are. Obviously you know my family and my background. And it's natural that you might have questions and concerns as to what I'm made of—what kind of man I am and whether I'm just some spoiled young punk…"

"Rod," Michael interrupted with a smile, "I have no concerns about your character. I have a good idea of the kind of man you are. I've witnessed the caring consideration you take with Mac and I've seen the proud yet protective look in your eyes. A spoiled young punk, as you put it, with an Ivy League education and limitless opportunities would not have volunteered to spend three years in the military. Not when we were at war at any rate. He certainly would not bother going to law school against the wishes of his father when a lucrative, future path in the family business had been laid at his feet. And he would never be mature enough or strong enough to love and appreciate my daughter—to see her beauty, to value and not fear her intelligence and dynamic personality, and to understand that behind those sometimes formidable attributes is a compassionate and deeply sensitive soul."

Rod felt like he could breathe again. "It was just that your reaction to…"

"I'm sorry about that… the reason for my reaction wasn't what it appeared. All I can tell you is that in the future when your little girl falls in love and you get asked this particular question, you'll understand how hard it is for a father to let go. Always remember, I loved her first. Her happiness is my happiness."

Did Mackenzie love him? Her father thought so. His parents thought so. And so did he. She may not have said the words yet, but her response to his touch, the way she looked at him and how she smiled at him all spoke of love and a future together. A vision came into his mind of the time when he would be standing in Michael's place and talking about the daughter he and Mackenzie shared. A glimpse of understanding came to him about what this man must be feeling. "I promise you that her happiness is my first priority… and that it will always be so."

Michael nodded.

Without breaking eye contact, Rod took a moment to ponder what more he should disclose. "Michael, she hasn't spoken about it, but I know someone hurt her deeply in the past. I've seen the scars—the doubts and fears in her eyes and the way she reacts to things at times. And I'd like to kill the bastard who broke her trust and caused her to suffer such torment."

The emotion and conviction behind his words further increased Michael's respect towards him. He gave him a knowing smile. "Then we understand each other. And you are right about the past. I know my frequent absences were tough on her growing up and that she's cautious about letting people in. But something happened to her in Jerusalem. Something devastating. She won't speak about it to us either. Nonetheless, it changed her and made her more cautious and distant… until last night. When she returned home yesterday, after your day together, Kate and I saw a glimpse of the old Mac."

Michael shook his head. "No, we saw a lot more. We saw a happiness and deep contentment in her we'd never seen before. That has only continued today. And that is why I am giving you my trust, my blessing, and my permission to marry my daughter. I think you recognize what that means and how special she is."

On one hand, Rod appreciated the solemnity of this moment, but on the other hand, he had to fight against the urge to give the man a high-five. However, he resisted the desire to celebrate and instead said, "Thank you. I know how extraordinary she is and how lucky I am to have her in my life."

"Rod, she—like you—has been blessed with many talents. She is destined for greatness. She doesn't know it, but I do. I trust that you are willing to be the man who will help her and not hinder her spirit. The man who will give her balance and personal fulfillment."

Rod took a minute to process all that he'd just been told. Finally he said, "All I can promise you is that I will always be at her side, whatever she chooses to do. I have the means to provide for her and to give her the freedom to choose her future path so long as it includes me and whatever children we may be given. If she wants to work or if she wants to stay home, it doesn't matter to me. I will not make that choice for her and I will always support her and be proud of her. And I trust that she will do the same for me… and that whatever we do, we will do it together."

"That's all I can ask," Michael acknowledged.

"I haven't brought up marriage with her yet so can we keep this discussion to ourselves. Obviously you're going to tell Kate, but…"

"We won't say anything to Mac, I promise you."

"Thank you."

"I do, however, have some practical questions." He wanted to know how much thought Rod had put into an actual life with his daughter or if his desire for marriage was sudden and new.

"Okay."

"Mac graduates this spring and you have two years of school left. She's got to be in New York City and you in New Haven. How are you going to make it work?"

Rod smiled and silently thanked his father for asking these same questions earlier in the day, and his sisters and Mac for making him hang out at the mall for hours with little of substance to do but think. "We live in the City and I commute. I know we could split the distance—maybe live here or in Greenwich. But she'll be working incredibly long hours and I don't want her spending additional time in a car or on a train."

"I appreciate that… but what about after you graduate? What are…"

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door followed by Kate and Mac's entry into the room. Mackenzie looked towards Rod with inquiring eyes, while Kate gave Michael an identical look. However, all they got in return was startled, innocent smiles.

"Now that you two have managed to avoid the dishes," Kate commented, "why don't we open a few birthday gifts before the others arrive."

"Where would you like to perform this ritual?" Michael asked adoringly.

"Right here," Kate responded as Mac began to bring the gifts into the room.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Thanks for helping me clean up," Mac said several hours later as she turned on the dishwasher.

Rod dried his hands on a dishtowel. "It's the least we could do."

"It will be a nice surprise for her tomorrow." Kate had told them to leave the mess and that she'd take care of it in the morning. However, Mac hadn't felt right about that after her mom had worked hard all day on dinner and the party. She looked at her watch. It was midnight. "I know it's late but do you want to hang out for awhile longer? We haven't had much time alone."

"No, we haven't," he agreed with a chuckle. He quickly closed the distance between them, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pulled her close. He bent his head until he made contact with her forehead. "I'd love to stay—with you."

Mac loved this position—loved the way she felt when they connected in this way. "Let's go in the family room," she said when she finally pulled away.

"Okay."

As they walked downstairs, she asked, "Dad loved the photograph you gave him. I hope you weren't too bored though with all of their friends."

"How could I ever be bored when I'm with you? Besides Carl and Sue ended up coming, too. Carl looks exactly like his dad."

"I know," Mac answered, taking a seat on the couch. "But in temperament, he's more like his mother."

Rod moved a couple of pillows out of the way and sat down next to her.

She turned to face him. "Did I tell you? He's going to propose next week over the break. They're spending it with her family. I helped him pick out the ring a few days ago."

"That's great. So are you going to be the Best Man or the Maid of Honor?"

"Very funny."

"I'm serious."

His face was straight but she gave no credence to his words. "Well," she teased, "do you think I'd look better in a tux or a bridesmaid dress?"

"Kiddo, with your parents in the house, you don't want to hear my thoughts on what you'd look best wearing—or not wearing. But I'll give you a small hint." He pulled her on top of him and kissed her thoroughly.

Minutes later, after they'd both caught their breath, they remained sprawled out on the couch cuddling. Eventually Mac said, "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Why didn't you tell me you'd been in the Army?"

He shifted his head to see her better. "What do you mean?"

"Tonight was the first I'd heard about you being in the military."

"You're kidding?" He shook his head. "I had no idea. I thought you knew."

"No." She sat up, put her feet on the carpet, and looked down at him. "I knew you'd been stationed in Germany between undergrad and law school. You mentioned it once early on. I thought you were working at a bank or something. I didn't know you meant 'stationed' in the military sense. You don't act like a soldier. And you never said anything else about it."

"I'm sorry." He pulled himself into more of a sitting position and sighed. "I honestly had no idea you didn't know. I guess it's something I think about a lot but don't talk about, if that makes sense. I understand it's sometimes necessary, but war is hell."

"That's what I don't understand. Why did you join? Particularly when you knew we were most likely going to be at war."

He shrugged. "I don't know. I just did. It seemed like the right thing—the responsible thing—to do." Seeing her skeptical expression, he added, "You don't believe me?"

"No, it's not that." She paused trying to find the right words. "Rod, it's not like you to do something that big on a whim. Yes, I know you honestly try to do the right thing but that was extreme—even for you. There has to be more to it."

He stared at her for a moment. Was he ready to have this conversation with her when he'd scarcely ever had it with himself? He had to do it. If he expected her to trust him then he had to trust her. "You're right. And I've never spoken about it to anyone—only you." He took a deep breath. The warmth and encouragement in her eyes gave him the courage to go on. "Anyway, as I finished my undergraduate degree I may not have recognized my interest in going to law school, but I was very interested in politics and government. I still am. You know that—we've talked about it."

"And?"

"And well, if I ever run for national office I thought military service would help."

"Because it looks good on a résumé?"

"Yeah," he acknowledged sheepishly. "But there was more to it. National security and defense are huge issues. They always have been and always will be. I wanted to understand how the military operates."

"Rod, you could have been killed." She shuddered.

"I know," he answered quietly.

"There had to be other—less dangerous—ways to get the knowledge you were looking for…. That can't have been your only option?"

"I don't know," he answered with a shake of his head. "You asked me why I joined and I told you. But why I did it, or what I thought I'd learn beforehand, is completely different from what I actually learned."

"Tell me." She could see how much and how deeply he'd been affected by the experience.

"Okay," he nodded. "You know what they say about hindsight. Truthfully, if I knew then what I know now, I'm not sure I'd have done it. I can only imagine how difficult the long years during World War II or Vietnam must have been. That being said, however, I learned a great deal from it. I was lucky. I walked away with only minor scrapes. What I learned though, I hope will stay with me forever—even if I don't talk about it much. I learned that fate in combat is arbitrary and no respecter of persons when it comes to who gets injured or killed and who survives. I learned that war is, in fact, hell and should only be used as a last resort when every other viable option has failed. And I learned that leaders—those with the power—must never, ever treat lightly any decision to send our troops into harm's way. They have to be sure. They have to be suspect."

Mac smiled upon hearing the conviction in his voice. She'd learned so much about him the past few days. And the more she learned, the deeper she fell. Softly she told him, "Thanks for sharing that with me. I'm just grateful you were lucky. And I'm proud of you for volunteering to serve."

He took her hand and kissed it tenderly. With an involuntary yawn, he said, "Thank you for understanding. I am sorry you didn't know about it until tonight. I promise it wasn't deliberate."

"I know," she assured him. "The important thing is that I know now and that we talked about it."

He smiled, too, as he thought about how much he loved this brilliant, stubborn, beautiful, caring woman.

She reached out and brushed his hair back from his forehead. "You're exhausted. We've had a busy few days—and most of the work has fallen on you. Are you okay to drive? Or do you want to stay here for the night?"

"I'd better go. It's only thirty minutes."

"Okay."

They stood and walked upstairs.

"Before you go there's something I want to give you," she told him.

He tilted his head. "What?"

"Wait right here. I'll be right back."

Mac walked up to her room while Rod sat on the bottom couple of stairs. A few minutes later she returned carrying a small wrapped gift. She sat down next to him and placed it in his hands.

"Mackenzie," he said turning to her, "what is this? Christmas isn't until next month."

"I know. It's not a 'Christmas' gift. It's a 'thank you' gift."

"What for?"

"For simply being you," she said with a twinkle in her eyes. "Come on, open it!"

He tore the paper, opened the box and found a black watch. "Mac," he told her huskily, "you shouldn't have… this is too much."

"Don't you like it? You know what it is, right?"

He took off his regular watch and put the new one on. "Yeah, I know what it is. It's a diver's watch that glows in the dark and is water resistant up to a thousand meters or so."

"It's not any diver's watch. It's one made for Seals and Special Ops guys. Not only water resistant, it's waterproof. I thought it'd be perfect for you when boating—particularly if another fish drags you out to sea. Of course, I had no idea about your military history when I bought it earlier today."

"I love it—but you shouldn't have. You don't owe me…"

She silenced his protest in the most effective way she knew: she kissed him. After she got his attention, she said sincerely, "Honey, I wanted to do it. You do so much—you mean so much… to me."

He sighed in resignation. "Thank you. I love it… and I love you." He stifled another yawn.

"Come on," she said with a chuckle, "let's get you on your way." She stood and took him by the hand until they reached the door. "Do you want to attend church with us in the morning?"

"What time?" He asked, as he grabbed his jacket from the closet.

"Nine-thirty."

He groaned as he joined her by the door.

"You don't have to… I know you're tired."

"What time should I be here?"

"You really don't have to…"

"What time, Mac?"

"Nine-fifteen?"

"I'll be here." He took her in his arms one last time and hugged her tight. Finally releasing her, he said, "Thank you for spending the day with me. I know it wasn't what you had planned for the weekend."

"It was much better than what I had planned."

"Good." He kissed her on the cheek then opened the door. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Night," she answered. "Drive safe—and call me when you get home."

"Mackenzie…"

"What's good for the goose…" she reminded him.

He got the message. "Yes, ma'am."


	31. The Promise of Joy

**31. The Promise of Joy**

"Bye, Mom," Mac said while Rod shook Michael's hand.

She next hugged her father while Rod kissed Kate on the cheek. "Thank you," he told her.

Kate winked at him. Late last night Michael had told her of their conversation in the study. She was thrilled and now felt confident that he was the right man for her daughter. "We'll see both of you in a few days. Study hard."

"Yes, ma'am," Rod said walking to the car and opening Mac's door.

"Bye," Mac said with a final wave before climbing in the car.

Before Rod climbed into the car he looked at Kate and Michael and said, "Thanks again."

"Take care of my girl," Michael told him.

"I will."

Rod climbed into the driver's seat and started the car. Before putting the car in gear he looked at Mackenzie. "Ready?"

She nodded.

He put the car in reverse and backed out of the driveway to begin the drive back to New Haven. They'd attended church with her parents that morning before leaving the Porsche at the marina and driving his boat home, with her wrapped around him from behind. They'd spent the afternoon in Greenwich and after dinner with his family had returned to Bridgeport with her parents. "It's been quite the weekend," he commented as they pulled onto the main street.

"Yes, it has," she answered with a sigh. "It almost doesn't seem worth going back, does it?"

"Except I can't miss class. I also have a ton of reading and work to do on my outlines. But you could stay—if you wanted. A few days wouldn't make any difference for you at this point."

"True. But for the Dean's class," she reminded him with a wicked gleam. "Who knows what else he—or his secret conspirator—has in mind for me."

"You never know…" he agreed with a grin. His eyes, however, remained fixed on the road ahead.

"Besides I have journal work and papers to write." Her words trailed off as she placed a caressing hand on his thigh.

He turned and looked at her briefly.

"And I'd miss you."

Rod felt his heart pound in his chest. Her voice had a different quality and there was a new possessiveness in her touch. He brought her hand to his lips before settling it back firmly in place. He would have covered it with his own but they hadn't reached the highway, where he would have no need to shift gears. "At least Thanksgiving Day will be easy. We won't have to be apart or eat two dinners. And everyone seems pleased with the plans."

She removed her hand from his leg and lightly poked him in the ribs. "You were pretty smooth there, Mr. Calloway. The menu and kitchen dynamics will probably prove interesting though. Mom has a traditional meal she always prepares and nobody dares mess with it."

He chuckled. "Mine, too. Then, of course, there's Nana. She'll likely take charge of the whole thing and order everyone around."

"Undoubtedly." Mac smiled. "Can you believe how well they all got along? Almost like they'd known each other for years. I heard our fathers talking about getting in a round of golf together later in the week, if the weather holds."

"You can't have been surprised? Not really." He braked as they came to a stoplight.

"You're right," she conceded. Their parents were intelligent, outgoing and gracious people. Honest and grounded, they approached life and parenthood in similar ways. Why wouldn't they get along? "I simply hadn't given it much thought before, that's all."

"Mackenzie…"

Hearing the huskiness in his voice and feeling his penetrating eyes bearing into her, she turned towards him.

"You do realize things have changed between us. I didn't intend… but we can't go back."

"I know," she answered in a tone that was both breathless and tranquil.

His breath caught as he looked searchingly in her eyes.

She met his gaze. _We have a lot to talk about, _she silently told him_. Not here, of course._

_No, not here. At home_, he answered similarly with a smile before forcing his eyes back on the intersection and making a left turn onto Interstate 95. Once they'd settled into the fast lane, he took her hand and returned it to his leg, securing it in place with his own hand while lacing their fingers together.

XXXXXXXXXX

An hour later they stood in the kitchen putting groceries away. They'd stopped at the store before going to the condo by unspoken agreement.

"After everything I've eaten this weekend I'll need to run ten miles tomorrow morning," she remarked while putting the fresh fruit they'd purchased into a big bowl.

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. "Promise me you won't run alone in the dark."

"Rod…"

"Honey, it's not safe. I'm not kidding. Okay?"

"All right," she relented with a sigh. "Are you playing ball in the morning?"

"Yeah," he answered while putting the last of the perishable items in the refrigerator. "Can't wait."

"Be careful. It's only been a few days since the cast came off."

"I will." He flexed his left hand. "Honestly, it feels fine. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Be careful—please. Take it slow. I don't want a repeat of what happened before."

"Me, too," he agreed. "Are you hungry?"

"Not like you are," she said with a small shake of her head. The amount of groceries he went through in a week would last her a month. "I think I'll stick with fruit tonight."

"I thought I'd make an omelet and toast." He grabbed some eggs from the refrigerator. "Sure you don't want any?"

"Oh… I'll probably have a few bites of yours."

"Better make it a big one." With his empty hand he took out a few more eggs.

While he prepared the eggs, she grabbed a plate from the cupboard and began to peel a banana and slice an orange and apple while seated at the kitchen table. They talked briefly about their schedules for the week and what time they'd be available to leave on Wednesday. Mac also quizzed him on the Rule of Perpetuities, an archaic rule in property law and the bane of every 1L's existence.

"By George, I think he's got it," she said in a terrible British accent after he'd answered several questions correctly.

"Thanks to his brilliant and beautiful tutor." The omelet and toast were now done. He loaded them onto a plate and grabbed a couple of forks. "The weekend was great," he said walking over to the table, "but it's good to be home." He put the plate and utensils on the table as he leaned down and began to kiss her playfully on the neck. He felt her breath catch in response. "You taste much better than any omelet," he teased. "What do you want to drink?"

"Water's fine," she answered breathlessly. His touch affected her like nothing else ever had.

"Okay." He retrieved a bottled water for her and poured himself a big glass of milk. When he returned he found she had half a piece of toast on her plate and her fork in his eggs. "Here you go." He loosened the cap on the water and set it and a glass on the table in front of her. "Eggs taste okay?" He sat down and pushed his plate closer to her.

"Perfect," she said taking another bite. "Fruit?"

He raised his eyebrow. "You?" he asked hopefully. "Always."

"I meant banana."

"Well, if that's the best you can do…." He speared a few banana slices from her plate and put them in his mouth. "Not bad. But tastes better with peanut butter."

"Banana and peanut butter? That is disgusting."

"Manna from heaven," he countered.

"Poor, lost Children of Israel," she quipped with a smile that reached up to her eyes.

"Blessed souls." He picked up another slice of banana and fed it to her.

After a few moments of companionable silence spent eating from each other's plates, she asked, "When your father talked of us working at the bank, was he serious? What did he mean?"

"Literally that," he answered. "He wants me to do what he did with his Dad: work with him, learn the business and eventually take over. And he'd like you to join us. It wasn't an idle offer, he's serious."

"Why me?"

"Because he's an astute businessman. He knows precisely how talented and capable you are."

"How can he know that? We only met this weekend."

"Because I've told him you're the top student in the law school and the smartest person I know. I also have no doubt he's made a few inquiries."

She was stunned. "You think he's checked me out? Why would he do that? Is he trying to protect you?"

He chuckled. "No, he would never do that… he would never interfere. He knows I can take care of myself. I told you, he's a shrewd man—and I mean that in the positive definition of the word. And with us together, he figures if he can convince one of us then quite possibly he'll get both of us."

"You mean if he gets me, then he'll get you, too."

He shrugged.

"When you said take over, what did you mean? Manage the bank?"

"In part. When we talk about 'the bank' we're actually talking about the entire company. He'd like me to replace him eventually as CEO. The bank is our biggest holding and the company's principal business. But there are other holdings, too. None of them publicly traded, all privately held by the family."

"Your family owns an entire bank? Not simply a bank branch?"

"Among other things."

"It's hard to comprehend the magnitude of it all."

"My grandfather was brilliant, enterprising, and ambitious. My Dad is the same."

"Yet you don't want to take over? Work with him?"

"It's not that… I love my father. There's nobody I respect more than he and Mom—except you."

Mac felt her pulse quicken. _Is that how he saw her? Above his parents even?_

"I simply don't want my life's work to be focused on money or business. If Dad truly needed me, I'd be there. He doesn't. I need to be my own man—to forge my own path. Do you understand?"

"I think so."

"It's important to Dad that things stay in the family. If I were still an only child, I'd probably feel different. I'm not. Mom and I think Alex will be the one to step in. She's a natural." He picked up their empty plates and glasses and carried them over to the sink. Taking a couple mints from a drawer, he softly tossed one to her. "Let's go in the other room. We'll be more comfortable."

"Should we clean up first?" she asked unwrapping the mint.

"No. Can do it in the morning." He put the mint in his mouth and walked back to the table where he extended a hand out towards her.

As she accepted it, she looked up into his eyes and discovered there a soberness that went beyond what she'd witnessed in him before. She felt the same. _Things had changed between them_.

XXXXXXXXXX

Once they were seated facing each other on the love seat in front of the fire, they silently watched each other trying to decide where to begin. After a few moments, she took the lead. "There's something I've been wondering," she said. "You like people and have many friends, but you live alone. Why?"

"After more than three years of living in cramped military quarters I was ready for my own space. And when I came back here I didn't know anybody. Cooper and I had lost contact with each other and I had no idea he was here—or that there would be several other acquaintances still around. I suppose if I'd thought about it, I could have found some roommates. The truth is I was ready to do my own thing. Yeah, I was starting school again. I just didn't want to live like a student."

"So do you get an allowance? Is that how you pay for school and stuff? And why did you tell me the boat was a family thing instead of acknowledging it was yours?"

"Because that's what it is," he protested with a sheepish smile. "And no, I don't get an allowance per se. I inherited money from my grandfather that was put in trust until I turned twenty-five. Nana was the primary trustee and together we've invested in stocks, bonds, mutual funds and real estate since I was a boy. She always included me in decisions, and usually my father, too. They wanted me to learn all I could about investing and financial planning; and they allowed me to participate and to learn by experience. I'm in charge of it now. I still actively invest. And yeah, I consult with both of them and others on a regular basis. I pay for school and live on a portion of the interest."

"How much are you talking about?" Though tuition was more than 20,000 dollars a year, money never concerned him. Yet, he wasn't flamboyant. The Porsche was several years old and she knew nothing about the boat until a few days ago. He didn't act spoiled or entitled. He was a dedicated worker whose ambitions easily matched that of anyone at the law school.

"Enough to make work an option rather than a necessity—no matter how many children you choose to give me."

"I don't know what to say," she admitted as the meaning of his words sank in. "Rod, I never…. You know I don't…."

"Honey, that's the furthest thing from my mind. You asked me a question—a question you have every right to ask and should ask. There's nothing else to it."

"Okay." She'd never want him to think anything else. "And when you mentioned children, were you teasing?"

"Do you doubt us getting that far?"

"No. I didn't want to be seen as taking too much for granted." She studied him and saw an amused smile on his lips but questions in his eyes. _Was she or their relationship the source?_ "That's honestly how you see us?"

"Yes."

"Married with children?"

"Happily married for at least fifty years—with children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. And I think they're going to love the story of how we met. How I literally swept you off your feet."

"More like ran me over," she commented with a sparkle in her eyes. "Didn't give me much choice in the matter, either. I was caught off guard and completely unbalanced."

"I know," he responded with a smug look.

"And you were kind of cute—even if a little cocky."

"What can I say?" He shrugged. "There you were suddenly sprawled at my feet—feisty and beautiful. I immediately saw what I wanted, and I was swinging for the fence."

"You were that sure? From the start?"

"After the first week," he answered. "Ask my grandmother if you don't believe me. And I'm more committed now. We may be having this conversation for the first time, but thinking about our future is nothing new for me. I've thought a lot about us, and the life we could have together. The question is: How do you see us? What do you want?"

"I want to be with you." She felt such happiness and fulfillment when they were together. "But I'm not sure what you expect from me?"

"What do you mean? Expect what?"

"From me as a wife and a mother, I suppose."

"I see."

"Rod, your mother gave up her dream of being a doctor to support your Dad's career and to stay at home with you. I've worked hard to become a lawyer. It's something I've wanted my entire life. I don't know if I can give that up—not completely." She'd been willing to give up everything in the past and she'd ultimately ended up with nothing.

"Is that what's worrying you?" he asked gently while running a hand through her hair.

"In part."

"I'm proud of you and what you've accomplished. You have to know that?"

"I do," she responded with a nod. "I'm proud of you, too."

"I know how hard you've worked. You love the law—love the mental exercise of it. I do, too. I would never ask you to give that up."

"I know you mean that now. But what about later when you finish school and you're thinking about your own career? You're as ambitious as I am—perhaps even more."

"That's true," he acknowledged with a sigh. "Honey, I didn't learn about my mom and medical school until yesterday. But I know my parents. Mom not going to med school was the result of her decision—her choice. My Dad didn't force her or pressure her to do it."

"I know—she told me. And she's perfectly happy and content with that decision. I just don't know what _you_ expect and whether you would come to resent me if I want something different than what our mothers wanted."

He thought on his individual conversations with their fathers the past couple of days. Remembering the promises he'd made to Michael, he said, "You can work or you can stay home. You have that choice. My financial situation doesn't require you to work and I would never demand you stay home. What I want is for you to be happy. What I want is for us to be partners, and to make each other and our family a priority."

"I want that, too," she told him softly. "What about children?"

"Well, they'll be brilliant like their mother, good looking like their father—and likely very tall." He leaned forward and kissed her firmly on the mouth. He didn't linger or he'd quickly be lost to rational thought. His desire for her was that strong. And talking about children did not help in that regard. "And you will be a terrific mother," he told her quietly with their faces still only inches apart.

"I hope so. You'll have to show me the way because I'm an only child and let's face it, you're the one who has experience with kids and teenagers."

"We'll do it together," he assured her. "We'll make mistakes and we'll learn from them." He studied her close. There was something deeper on her mind. He rested a hand on one of her legs. "What is it? What's troubling you?"

His ability to read her thoughts both comforted and frightened her. "Rod, your grandparents had your father within the first year of their marriage. Your parents had you the same way. I know you love kids. I do, too. And I want to have children with you." She took a deep breath. "But not immediately or anytime soon. I'm not ready to be a mother—not ready to make those sacrifices. Not with starting at the firm and being a new associate. And I want to be able to enjoy us first. I'm sorry if that sounds selfish, I--"

He smiled because her fears in that regard were groundless. "Mackenzie, I'm not ready for kids either. We're twenty-five. We have time. I want us to enjoy each other first, too. Okay?" he asked indulgently with a slight cock of his head as he searched for comprehension and acceptance in her countenance.

"Okay," she said with a little nod.

"Besides, this is one area where my desires have to take a back seat to your wishes. You're the one who has to do the work to get them here. All I can do is support you. So when you're ready, you'll tell me… or you'll surprise me. It doesn't matter. I'll be thrilled—whenever that time arrives."

"You make it sound so simple," she said.

"What?"

"Us. Marriage. Children."

"It's not. We'll have to work at it." He took both of her hands in his. "It's worth it though—at least to me. I know how I feel about you. How I feel about us. We're good together. I'm a better man because of you. And with you is where I want to be."

"Me, too." She gave his hands a squeeze before letting go. "But what about the day to day, year to year? How do we balance it all? How do we fulfill our individual dreams and meet each other's needs and those of our children? And how do we do it without losing either each other or ourselves in the process?"

"I don't have all the answers. I'm willing to commit myself though. I think we've got some good examples we can follow in the relationships of our parents. However, if you're looking for certainties and guarantees, I don't have any. Except my willingness to play the game with you, and my belief that we can be happier together than we could ever be apart."

Hearing the conviction in his voice, she was again struck by the level of his confidence. _Where did he find the strength, the courage… the faith?_ She rested her arm on the back of the sofa and leaned her head against her raised hand. With an inquiring look she asked, "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You must have questions—about me, about us. But you ignore them. How do you do it? How do you drive away the doubts and fears? How do you focus only on the positive and what is possible instead of probable?"

"Do you know who Allen Drury is?"

"The author?"

"Yes."

"Sure," she told him, "I read _Advise and Consent_ when I was in high school."

"Did you like it?"

"Yeah, what I remember of it. But what does it have to do with us?"

He smiled. "Be patient."

"Okay."

"Anyway, _Advise and Consent_ is the first in a series of novels dealing with American politics and the presidency during the Cold War. I read all of them as part of a seminar in college. The last book—_The Promise of Joy_—ends with the thoughts of the President after he'd been faced with deciding how the United States would respond in a war between China and Russia. He knows his choice to intervene could end the hostilities and make it possible for a new peace to possibly emerge over time, or it could fail and likely result in the destruction of everything and everyone. That's just for background. The plot's not important to your question."

"Go on."

"What had meaning for me—what has stuck with me—is the book's final passages where the President mentally compares the struggle for peace with the promise of joy. He asserts the only thing any decent human experiment—which includes relationships in my opinion—can hold out, is the promise of joy. Because when it comes to joy or peace, there are no easy certainties, painless assurances, or comfortable guarantees. There is only the promise of it. A promise that may be here today, gone tomorrow, and back again the next day; and one which demands work, hope, and endurance. A promise worth seeking, nonetheless, because without the attempt—without the trying—what's left?" He paused and took a deep breath.

"But it's not something for those with faint hearts or wavering wills—those who act only when success is certain." With a shake of the head, he added, "They'll never find what they're looking for, because those certainties don't exist. They'll always be sitting on the bench or as spectators in the stands. They'll never get in the game because they might fail. And I don't want to live like that…."

He continually surprised her. Her first impressions of him as a jock were ridiculous. He was a strong, athletic man but he possessed a poet's soul. "I think I'll have to read that book," she said with a smile.

She seemed to understand. The questions in her brow had disappeared and she was more relaxed. "I'll loan it to you… or we could read it together," he warmly replied with an identical smile.

She scooted next to him, folding her legs behind her and snuggling into his side. "I like the together idea," she said as she nuzzled his neck and inhaled his unique scent. They'd talked enough. Tonight, she would take a page out of his book and quit seeking certainties and guarantees.

"Me, too," he said fighting for control while she continued to kiss his neck and run her fingers under his shirt.

She could feel his muscles immediately tense when she touched his abdomen. She loved knowing that she physically affected him as strongly as he affected her.

"Mac," he said with a hint of desperation. "You're playing with fire."

While continuing the exploration of his chest with her hand, she whispered against his ear, "That, Roderic, is precisely the point of the exercise." She stopped her activity and looked him in the eye. "Now, are you going to sit on the bench? Or are you going to get in the game."

"Never dare a Calloway to get in the game," he replied with a cocky smirk. "We play to win." He took her face in his hands and crushed his mouth on hers, imprisoning her in his arms.

The powerful swiftness of his response initially surprised her. No sooner had she begun to respond to the force of his passion than he surprised her again by changing his approach to a slow, seductive and probing examination of her mouth coupled with his own provocative exploration of her waist and stomach.

When his fingers made contact with her warm skin, he felt her muscles involuntarily tighten in the same way his had. _Was she truly ready to push aside the doubts and fears of the past?_ He had to know before he reached a point of no return. He withdrew his mouth so he could see her reaction as he raised his hand further under her blouse to gently cup one of her breasts. He felt her surprise before she arched back to allow him even greater access. Relieved he bent his head and trailed kisses along the base of her neck and her throat while maintaining a gentle hold on her breast. When he nipped at the sensitive spot beneath her ear, he felt her fingertips dig into the skin on his back. She was as much on the edge as he, and it excited him like nothing else ever had. _But did she want what he had in mind for them?_

He pulled back and waited for her to open her eyes. When she did, he said quietly, "Stay with me tonight. Let me love you—show you some of the joy we can share together."

Still overcome by passion, she was also overwhelmed with emotion as she heard his plea and looked in the depths of his eyes. Those eyes which were unique in color and which divulged so much about the man. Eyes that revealed passion and love. Eyes that spoke of strength and confidence, hope and understanding. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was this simple.

Besides, she wanted him. She needed him. She only hoped that he wouldn't be disappointed. It had been so long. She wasn't sure what to do or say. Instead she gave a small nod and a shy smile; and felt reassured when she saw the elation on his face before he bent his head and kissed her with a sweetness and tenderness that almost brought tears to her eyes.

XXXXXXXXXX

He led her by the hand into his bedroom. He'd waited what seemed like an eternity for this time with her. But the wait had been worth it. Still holding one of her hands, he switched on the bedside lamp. It was important for him to see her face.

She looked around briefly. They already had a significant history in this room. This was where he'd told her he loved her and where they'd spent so much time while he'd been sick. He'd been miserable then but so considerate and responsive to her needs. _Would tonight be the same?_

He could feel the intense emotion in her. He moved closer to her and held both of her hands. "It will be okay," he said gently. "We'll take it slow. I won't hurt you. I promise."

"I know," she assured him. "I want this, too. It's just been a long time."

"For me, too. But I'm clean and I've got protection."

She nodded.

Letting go of one hand, he lightly traced a path down her cheek with his free hand. Slowly he dipped his head while moving his hand to the back of her neck. Pressing her body against the length of him, he began to kiss her softly at first but with increasing desire as he felt her respond.

She loved how his kisses always made her feel. But she longed to feel his hard muscles again contract when she touched his skin. While they continued to kiss, she reached for the bottom of his shirt and began to lift it towards his head, her fingertips seductively sliding up his sides as she went. She felt his body involuntarily react to her touch and heard his breathing became uneven; and her confidence grew greater still when she felt him groan against her mouth.

He ended their kiss and hastily removed his shirt. He grinned when he saw how shamelessly she was checking him out.

How a cocky smile could affect her so deeply remained a mystery to her. Involuntarily she felt her own face smile.

"Like what you see, do you?" he teased. Again he nuzzled at her throat while his hands slowly but deftly began to unbutton her blouse. He felt her tense as his own fingers traced a path down the center of her chest as each button became undone. "You are so beautiful—inside and out," he told her.

"We've been together almost three months," he whispered against her ear, "and there hasn't been a day when I haven't wanted you here with me—kissing you, holding you… loving you. Everyday for three months—three long months."

_Three months. Three months._ All she heard was that phrase shouting over and over in her brain as he continued his exploration of her. _Three months was when she'd told David she loved him. Three months was when they'd first made love. Three months was when they'd begun talking about marriage. At three months she'd been willing to do anything for him. It had all been wonderful. It had all been perfect at three months. And it had nearly destroyed her._ She froze, her blood instantly turning cold. She grabbed his hands. "Stop," she cried out, "Please stop. I can't…"

He felt her stiffen beneath him as her tortured words penetrated his brain. He dropped his hands and raised his head. Stunned, he asked, "What is it? What's wrong?"

"I can't…."

Something was seriously wrong. "Mackenzie, what is it?"

"I can't do this." Frantically she began to button her shirt. She was suffocating. She needed air.

Fighting to maintain his composure, he ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't understand."

"I can't do this," she gasped impatiently. "Not now—not tonight."

"Okay." He was in shock. He raised his hands in surrender. "I would never force you. You have to know that?"

"I just… I don't want… I can't." She backed away until she made contact with the bed. She sat down. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself.

Utterly confused, all he could do was watch her. She was shaking and wore an anguished and faraway expression. It broke his heart to see her wracked with such torment. Suddenly he remembered the panic then grief he'd seen in her eyes when he'd said, _"I love you"_ for the first time; and the tears she'd cried after he was asleep. He picked up his shirt and quickly put in on before kneeling in front of her. Tenderly he took both of her hands. They were ice cold. "Honey," he said softly, "it's all right. Tell me what's wrong."

"I just don't want to have sex."

Her words felt like a knife in his gut. "You mean, you don't want to have sex with _me_. You don't want _me_ to love you. But you can't mean that… because you know I love you and I know you love me. What is it? Was it something I said or did? Talk to me. Whatever it is, we can deal with it—get through it—together."

"I can't," she said defiantly, freeing her hands and turning away.

He reached out and placed a gentle finger under her chin and turned her face to look at him. She didn't physically resist and she didn't respond. Instead she simply adopted a weary stare. He studied her close and what he saw angered, frustrated, and worried him. Deep in her eyes he saw pain, fear and doubt. The pain and the fear worried and frustrated him. But love and patience would eventually eliminate those emotions. The doubt was a different matter. The doubt angered him. The pain and fear would not go away so long as there was doubt. And this weekend he'd been reminded of whom it was that had been constantly playing on her fears by continually creating serious doubts about him in her mind. _Well, enough is enough,_ he thought_. It's time to take a stand._

"Come on," he told her bringing his focus back where it belonged. "You're exhausted. I'll take you back to the apartment. We'll talk later."

He walked into the kitchen. He turned on the sink and splashed his face with cold water before drying his skin with a dishtowel. _So it is with the promise of joy_, he thought ironically, _here one minute and gone the next_. He put on his jacket and then grabbed his car keys, her purse and coat.

When he walked out of the kitchen, she was waiting for him by the door. He held her coat for her and then handed her the purse. He helped her into the Porsche and silently they drove towards the apartment.

XXXXXXXXXX

When he stopped the car in front of her building, she spoke, "Are you angry?"

He turned off the ignition and turned to look at her. He could see her face in the dim light cast about by the street lamp. "Because you stopped our lovemaking?"

She nodded.

"No," he answered definitely. "Disappointed, confused, concerned… but not angry—not about that." He reached out and lightly caressed her cheek. "There's nothing I want more than to make love with you. But it could never be right until it's right for both of us."

"Thank you."

"But Mackenzie, sometime soon you'll have to talk to me about the past so we can get beyond it. This isn't the story of the three bears. You can't simply turn the page and pretend like nothing happened. It's hurting you—hurting us."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do," he said quietly. "And you've got to quit listening to other people and trust me—trust what we have." He sighed deeply. "You know, I thought we'd moved past this long ago, but especially after this weekend. Apparently I was wrong."

"What are you getting at?"

"I know what happened at the movie that Saturday night. I know you saw me. I know whom you were with and what you thought. I know that's why you didn't return my calls the next day and why you were so cold to me the morning I was released from the hospital. He's wrong, Mac. Wrong about everything."

"That had nothing to do with tonight, Rod. No matter what you might think you know. I don't want to have sex right now. That's it. Nothing else. I'm sorry if that wounds your pride—your huge ego—but deal with it."

"Fine," he told her, clinching his fist and taking a deep breath. "I'm not going to argue with you. We're both tired. So before we speak something we'll regret, let's say 'Goodnight' and talk later." He was learning that the harder you pushed with her, the more she initially resisted.

"Fine."

He stepped out of the car but by the time he walked around it, she, too, was out of the car. He opened the trunk and removed her duffel bag.

She attempted to take it from him. "You don't have to walk me inside. I'm a big girl."

He refused to relinquish the bag. "I know you are. But I'm walking you inside anyway."

"Whatever," she answered with an indifferent shrug. She removed her keys from her purse and opened the building door.

When they arrived outside her apartment, he took the keys from her hand and opened the door.

"Thank you," she said walking inside. Luckily it was dark. She was glad that Sue was either in bed or out because she didn't feel like talking tonight.

He followed her in and carried her bag to her room. When he returned he found her staring out the window. "Mackenzie…"

She turned around. "I'm tired, Rod. I can't deal with us right now. I want to go to bed." Again she turned away.

He was tempted to hold her until she broke down and told him what was bothering her. But it might backfire and drive an even bigger wedge between them; and if she resisted, his own anger and frustration could easily get the better of him. He was already on the verge of losing it. "Goodnight, " he said to her back. And when she didn't respond, he left.


	32. Crossroads

**32. Crossroads**

At 5:00 a.m. Mac gave up and rolled out of bed. She'd tried reading her federal tax textbook, drinking warm milk and even counting sheep. Nothing had worked. She was emotionally spent and wide-awake. She threw on her winter running tights, a long sleeve T-shirt and sweatshirt, hat, gloves and running shoes. She grabbed her _Walkman_ and left the apartment. Regardless of her promise to Rod, she was running outside this morning. And she was running alone. She almost changed her mind when she stepped outside and was instantly hit with the frigid morning air. But she needed air and exercise. Maybe if she ran fast enough and long enough she could forget how the weekend had ended.

Two miles later she gave up the pursuit and turned back towards the apartment. She shouldn't be out here at this hour—particularly by herself. It wasn't safe. It was stupid. Did she honestly think she could run away? Or that somehow she could punish him? Punish herself?

Him. How could she face him this morning? What could she say? What would he demand? How could she explain what was unexplainable? And if she tried, how would he react? Would he hate her? See her as damaged goods? Would he ultimately reach the same conclusion David had? Decide that they were, in fact, too different. That she wasn't good enough for him.

Why had he thrown Mike in her face? Had his earlier patience and understanding only been talk? Had he instead been looking for a fight? And what was it with Mike and him? Why was he so unreasonable where Mike was concerned? Cold and uncompromising.

When had her life become so confusing, so complicated? She wanted to scream. Instead she turned the volume up and ran harder and faster. She forced herself to focus only on the rhythm of the music while counting every step she took. Anything that would give her relief from the unremitting questions that dominated her thoughts.

Once back at the apartment she quickly showered, dressed and headed to school. She had work to do. Work was easy. Work she could control. She could count on work. It never let her down.

XXXXXXXXXX

By 7:00 a.m. she was at her desk in the journal office. And by 8:30 a.m. she'd approved the layout for the winter issue of the Law Journal. She'd also finished her reading for tax and had found five additional cases that were on point for her RICO paper.

She got up to stretch her legs for a minute and almost ran into Mike as he staggered into the room with a bag of ice over part of his face.

"What happened?"

"Just a collision on the court. Part of the game."

"Mike, you look terrible. You can barely stand up. Sit down."

He did as he was told.

"Here, let me look at it." She removed the icepack and saw his right eye was discolored, virtually swollen shut with a gash on the eyebrow. "This isn't just a collision. What happened?"

"I took an elbow," he conceded. "But it's nothing. I'm fine."

"You're not fine. You can't see out of that eye and you can hardly walk. Who did this to you?"

"Mac, it doesn't matter," he insisted. "I had it coming."

"Then it was intentional?"

"I didn't say that…. It's not your concern," he answered evasively. "I'm a big boy."

She studied him close. "Who are you protecting?"

He didn't respond.

Her heart fell. "It was Rod, wasn't it?"

"Mac, leave it. It doesn't matter. It was my fault."

She was stunned. _How could he have done this?_ "Mike, it was not your fault. I don't know what to say. You don't deserve this…."

"Mac, honestly I—"

"I don't want to hear it," she interrupted impatiently. "Come on, let's take you to the E.R. You could have a concussion and my guess is that you're going to need stitches." She'd deal with Rod later.

She drove him to the hospital. A few hours and four stitches later, she drove him home.

"I'm fine," he told her as he lay down on the couch. "You don't need to hang out."

"Where's the Tylenol?"

"Bathroom mirror."

She found the medicine and brought it and a glass of water back to him.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." She could barely contain her anger. _How could he have done this? How could he have embarrassed her like this?_

"Look, Mac. I have a small cut and a black eye. I don't have a concussion. There's no need for you to stay."

"I don't mind staying," she said.

"I know. I appreciate it. But we've got to get that new issue to the printer's today."

"Okay," she said. "You're right. Do you need anything before I go?"

"No. I'm just going to sleep."

She nodded. "I'll stop by later this afternoon and bring you something to eat. You'll call if you need anything?"

"Sure."

She put on her coat, picked up her purse and headed for the door.

"Mac…"

She turned around.

"Leave it alone. Don't make a deal out of something that isn't. It _was_ my fault."

XXXXXXXXXX

By the time Mac arrived back at the journal office, she was worked up. _How could he have been so cruel to take out his frustrations with her on Mike?_ _And what made it all the worse was that Mike had downplayed it and had tried to protect him._ And finding the weekly vase of red roses on her desk, today with a little card that said only, "I love you," heightened her anger.

She took off her coat and put away her purse and then she walked to the library to find Rod. It took awhile before she located him in a small study room with several other 1L's. He was sitting between Tiffany and another pretty, petite girl she didn't know, talking and laughing as if he hadn't a care in the world. "We need to talk," she said to his back without any preliminary greeting.

Rod had not seen her approach. Hearing her voice he turned around. The fire in her eyes matched the abrasive undertone in her voice. He wasn't surprised. He expected a showdown with her. In reality, it was a long-time coming. He wasn't proud of what had happened this morning but he didn't regret it either. He'd had enough and had done what had to be done. He took a deep breath. "Okay," he told her. "When would you like to talk?"

"Now."

He looked around. All conversation in the room had ceased and all eyes were focused on them. "Here?"

She, too, glanced around. At this point she almost didn't care who heard what she had to say. However, ultimately discretion won out and after a moment's thought, she answered, "Room 112. Five minutes." Without waiting for a reply, she left the room.

"Sorry," Rod told his friends after she left. "I'll catch up later." He gathered up his books and followed her out of the room.

XXXXXXXXXX

By the time he arrived in the little room where they'd had their first dinner together, Mackenzie was already waiting for him. He'd never seen her so worked up or so beautiful. He shut the door to give them privacy. He figured they'd probably need it. "Okay," he said taking a seat at the small table in the center of the room, "what do you want to talk about?"

Her glare further darkened. "You know exactly what I want to talk about."

"Mike?"

"Of course, Mike," she answered impatiently. "What else is there?" she added her voice increasing in volume and fury. "I can't believe you did what you did. We're finished."

He sighed. This would not be easy. "Look, Mac, I'm sorry Stanton got hurt. But he…." He stopped speaking. _Perhaps this isn't the best approach_, he realized as he looked at her close and saw that he was only fueling her fire. After a moment he quietly asked, "Do you want to hear my side of the story?"

"What's there left to say? What you did pretty much speaks for itself, don't you think?"

"It's not that simple," he said calmly, hoping he could wait out the shock and anger.

"Did you intentionally throw the elbow?" she asked pointedly while leaning against the table to the side of where he sat.

"Yes," he conceded turning to face her more directly, "but there's more to…."

"How complicated can it be, Rod?" she asked rhetorically. "You assaulted him. It was vicious and cruel. And I can't believe that you would take out your frustration with me on him because I wouldn't have sex with you last night."

He was stunned. "Is that what you think? What you honestly believe?"

"What else can I think? Actions speak far louder than words, Rod."

_After everything they'd shared, how could she ever think that of him? Did Stanton mean that much to her and he mean so little?_ "If you believe that…. Forget it," he said with a disbelieving shake of his head. Instantaneously his outlook changed to a rage and frustration that easily matched what she'd displayed. He stood and faced her. "What's the point? Your mind is made up. You've made your choice. And you're right. We're finished."

He turned and strode towards the door. Before he left the room, however, he took a deep breath and turned back to face her. "If you change your mind and decide you want to listen, you know where to find me."


	33. No Joy in Mudville

Oh, somewhere in this favoured land the sun is shining bright,

The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light;

And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout,

But there is no joy in Mudville—mighty Casey has struck out.

From _Casey at the Bat_

By Ernest Lawrence Thayer

**33. No Joy in Mudville**

Kate arrived at the restaurant Wednesday at noon to find Elizabeth waiting for her. She'd received a call from her Tuesday evening after Elizabeth had spoken with Rod. In truth, she had been about to make the same call after her own conversation with Mackenzie.

"It's good to see you again, even under these circumstances," Kate said joining her companion.

"Thanks for meeting me," Elizabeth answered with a warm smile, but a worried brow.

A hostess approached them, "Mrs. Calloway, your table is ready."

"Thank you."

The two women followed her to a table and took a moment to study the menu. After they'd each ordered a salad, and engaged in small talk, they got down to the business at hand: the mysterious state of affairs between their children.

"Do you have any idea what happened?" Kate asked with similar concern written across her forehead.

"Not really," Elizabeth answered. "When I spoke with Rod, he sounded devastated. He said, 'there is no joy in Mudville and that the Thanksgiving plans would have to change because mighty Casey had struck out.'" Seeing the confusion on her companion's face, she explained, "Rebecca began teaching him poetry and prose from the time he was a toddler. One of those poems was _Casey at the Bat_."

Kate grinned. "Very appropriate choice from what Mac has told me about him and baseball."

"He loved that game—still does," Elizabeth said nostalgically. "He would play and practice for hours almost from the time he could walk. Never tiring of it. Never losing patience with it. We all got commandeered to play with him on a daily basis." She shook her head. "It's not like my son to give up on something he loves or wants. And he loves and wants your daughter."

"Did you know he asked Michael for permission to marry her?"

"I'm not surprised. I think he had a similar conversation with Will during lunch on Saturday as they were doing the dishes while Mackenzie and I were out walking. He's had an engagement ring in his possession for weeks."

"You raised an incredible son," Kate responded. "He's exactly the man we hoped would love her—strong, secure, caring, considerate. Michael, as you can imagine, has always been exceedingly protective of his daughter and even he was impressed with Rod's confident and unequivocal devotion to Mac. And he does not impress easily."

"She is an amazing woman—brilliant, fun, compassionate. You should be proud. It's been obvious to Will and me for quite a while that she's the woman he wants in his life, and that he is firm in his commitment to her and their relationship. And seeing them together only solidified that opinion. We would be thrilled to have her as a member of the family."

"We feel the same."

"That's what I don't understand, Kate. When my son commits to something, he doesn't give up. Regardless of obstacles or opposition, he doesn't take 'no' for an answer. Yet on the phone he was adamant that it was over between them. How can that be? What possibly could have happened between Sunday night and Tuesday?" Elizabeth hated this feeling of uncomfortable helplessness that is a regular companion to all mothers.

"I don't know," Kate acknowledged, trying to come to grips with her own feelings of confusion and disbelief. "Did he say anything else?"

"He said they were finished—that she wouldn't listen and that she'd chosen someone else. That's it. That's all he would say. I think he's in shock. And he's angry and upset."

Kate, too, was concerned—for him and her daughter. Worried that Mac's unhappy and unfortunate past was preventing her from embracing the present and ultimately the future.

"I don't get it," Elizabeth continued. "I've seen the way Mackenzie looks at him. I know how she was with him when he was injured. Will and I were out of the country at the time but Rebecca has told us how caring and protective she was with him. There's no way there could be someone else. It's simply not possible. What did she say?"

"Even less. Only that they'd argued and that he'd walked out on her." Kate sighed. "But I don't believe that for a second. Anyone spending five minutes with the two of them would see how he feels about her. He would never walk out on her that way."

"I didn't get any hint that anything was wrong or unsettled between them over the weekend. Did you?"

"None at all."

"Do you have any idea what they argued about?"

"No. It can't have been something big. His statement that she wouldn't listen to him troubles me though," Kate said soberly. "She won't talk about it. However, she had a terrible, heartbreaking experience with a relationship while studying in Jerusalem before law school."

"Poor Mac," Elizabeth said. "Getting over those kinds of things can be so hard. She's strong though. And it's obvious to me that she loves Rod."

"Yes, she does," Kate agreed. "I wonder though if she's realized how much she loves him… and how deeply he loves her. I'm not sure she's moved beyond the past. I worry she's allowing it to color her perception of the present."

"None of it makes sense," Elizabeth said in disbelief. "They love each other. They belong together. I've never seen my son happier than this past weekend with her."

"We saw the same in Mac. With him, there's a sense of peace and contentment in her that's been sorely missing."

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of their salads; and the subsequent focus required of eating gave them an opportunity to process what they'd learned. When they'd mostly finished, Elizabeth said, "I guess the question is what can we do about it?"

"I don't know. I'm half tempted to suggest we continue with Thanksgiving as planned. I think that if they could just talk with one another it could all be resolved. It has to be a misunderstanding—miscommunication, misperception." Kate hoped that's all it was. If it was deeper and didn't get addressed, her daughter might never recover emotionally from this new, more devastating, heartbreak.

"I thought about that," Elizabeth said. "But I wonder if it's not too soon. Maybe they need some time to think about things. Time to find perspective and realize what they have together. My son can be pretty stubborn. I'm afraid if we force his hand—push him before he's calmed down. He may make things worse."

Kate chuckled. "We've definitely got a pot and kettle situation here. Mac is easily as pigheaded as Rod. And when she's backed into a corner, she'll generally verbally scratch out the eyes of the handiest target, or confront them with a frigidity the North Wind would envy. Either way, it's not a pleasant experience."

"So we wait," Elizabeth suggested with a weak smile. "Give them a chance to work through things on their own with a little gentle encouragement. And we hope they come to their senses and swallow their pride."

"I don't know what else we can do," Kate acknowledged. "But I'm afraid it's going to be a silent, miserable holiday."

"For us, too."

XXXXXXXXXX

"I can't believe you were able to talk us into first class," Carl said reaching for his drink.

Cooper did the same. "I told them we were conquering intellectual heroes… and that we hadn't slept in days. Besides, what woman can resist this face?" He looked around. "Of course, it helped that the flight was only half-full."

"Whatever the reason, I'll take it. And being the second best moot court team in the nation isn't too bad."

"Yeah," Cooper agreed. "Except we got robbed—victimized by a little home-cooking and a bias against the East Coast. And everyone knows it."

Carl shrugged. "You're right. Nothing we can do about it and frankly, I'm just glad it's over. It feels like I haven't seen Sue in a month let alone done any studying for finals."

"Don't remind me," Cooper responded with a groan. "Have you set a date yet?"

"The middle of June."

"In Michigan?"

"Yeah. Her mom is already driving her crazy. I've told her we should just elope…"

"Good luck with that," Cooper said with a chuckle. "I'm afraid you're stuck."

"At least I can use school and the Bar as an excuse to avoid a lot of it. So… what about you? When are you going to do the proposing?"

"Well, I thought about being corny and completely unoriginal and doing it on Valentine's Day."

"That's a month away. Is the legendary H. Cooper Young, III getting cold feet?" Carl asked with a teasing smile.

"No," he replied with a smirk. "You weren't listening. I said I thought about doing it on Valentine's. But I decided to creep her out instead by doing it on Friday the 13th with a black cat and a broken mirror. She has no idea it's coming."

"You're crazy. You know that?" Carl said through his laughter.

"That's the idea," Cooper said reclining his seat. "All part of the charm, my friend. All part of the charm."

"You do realize that's only five days away. Have you talked with her Dad yet?"

"I'm flying to Maryland on Wednesday morning. Set up a few job interviews, too, because I think that's where we're going to end up."

"You okay with that?"

"Yeah, I am," Cooper told him. "I'm proud of her. She's worked hard. Besides, I can practice law from wherever. But she's interested in pediatrics or obstetrics and Hopkins is tops in both."

"Who'd have thought that both of us would end up engaged before graduation?"

"Hard to believe," Cooper agreed. "Now if we could only straighten out the third piece of the puzzle. They're more right for each other than any of us."

"Mac and Rod?" Carl asked.

"Yeah," Cooper said with a sigh before sitting up straight. "Carl, it's not right. They belong together."

"I know. I don't understand it. And I'm worried about Mac. She's devastated."

"So is Rod. But I agree about Mac. She's avoiding me. Won't talk to me about it—will hardly speak to me at all." Cooper turned to face his friend more directly. "What has she told you?"

"Not much. She's been avoiding me, too. All I could get out of her is that they argued, he walked away and she doesn't understand why. What did he tell you?"

"Only that she doesn't trust him. That she made her choice and it wasn't him."

"Made her choice?" Carl asked incredulously. "What choice? There's been nobody else for her from the day they met."

"I can only guess he's talking about Mike," Cooper said soberly.

"Mike?" Carl studied him to see if the expression on his face matched the tone in his voice.

"Yeah, Mike."

"That's crazy. They're friends. That's all they've ever been."

"I know that, Carl. I'm simply telling you what I think. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"You think that's what they argued about? The cut to his eye?"

"Given the timing, it had to be." Cooper paused. "What else is Rod supposed to think? They fight over him, she wouldn't listen to any explanation and now she's with him all the time."

"It doesn't mean anything… you know that," Carl said firmly. "She's trying to block everything out that's not emotionally safe and easy. Mike is safe and easy. He doesn't ask questions or demand explanations like we do. They work together and she feels nothing for him. But Cooper, she's dying inside. And seeing him always surrounded by women, with a cavalier attitude and acting like he doesn't have a care in the world, only makes it worse—makes her retreat even further into herself."

"It's all an act. He loves her. He's angry and doesn't want to show he's hurt," Cooper insisted. "I'm sure he's not proud of what he did but from my view he didn't have a choice. Even for basketball reasons alone, he had to take a stand. He couldn't simply continue to take it." Cooper pursed his lips. "It never should have been a deal. He deserved better."

"What really happened there? From what I've seen, it's not like Rod to lose his cool."

"Mike was still playing physical—still being provocative—and I think he finally had it."

"What do you mean 'still'?"

Cooper sighed. He was trapped. Caught between two friends. He'd promised Rod he wouldn't say anything and he didn't want to make Mike out to look bad. He'd already said too much. "All I'm saying is that Mike had it coming. If I'd been in Rod's shoes I would have lost it long before."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing," Cooper said with an evasive shrug. "There's some bad blood between them from college, especially from Mike."

"With Mac caught in the middle?" Carl asked pointedly.

"No," Cooper answered unequivocally. "That's exactly what Rod wanted to avoid. If anyone put Mac in the middle, she did… and perhaps Mike. But, not Rod. He did what he had to do." Cooper shook his head. "I could never blame him for that…. Maybe he didn't make the wisest decision but he did it for her. He didn't want to put her in a position where she'd be forced to choose. And now after all that—after all he went through, he thinks she chose Mike."

"This is about a lot more than an elbow."

"Yeah, it is. But Carl, I can't…."

"Coop, I know you're trying to be a friend and not put me in the middle but do you think Mac and Rod are right for each other?"

"Absolutely."

"Do you care about Mac?"

"Of course, I do. You know she's like a sister to me."

"Then talk to me. Tell me what happened. Maybe we can figure out a way to fix it."

Cooper drew in a deep breath and acquiesced. "Mike has had it in for Rod since day one. Carl, he was the one who fouled Rod when he broke his arm. I know he didn't intend to injure him like that… but from what others have told me, it was brutal."

"Why would he do that? I know he's competitive but still…"

"Because he's got a blind spot a mile wide where Rod's concerned and because of what he thought he saw that night at the movies with Mac."

"So Rod was getting even with him?"

"I thought so at first," Cooper said. "It certainly would have been understandable. Mike hadn't stopped the aggressive play against him. It's like he wanted Rod to respond so things would be even between them. But for Rod, I don't think it was about retribution for his arm."

"What do you mean?"

"After he threw the elbow, he said something interesting to Mike before walking off the court. He said, 'I was with my sister at the movie, you moron. I can't believe you claim to be her friend and hurt her like that, play upon her fears and make her suffer unnecessarily for weeks.' I think he did it for her."

"I see," Carl said, remembering the devastation he'd seen in her that night. He contemplated this new knowledge for a moment. "Mac doesn't know about any of this, does she? But especially about the arm."

"No."

"Don't you think she deserves to know?"

"Yeah, but it's not…."

"She has to know. It could make all the difference in the world," Carl said thoughtfully. "They're right for each other. She needs him. I worry she won't find someone who'll love her and still let her fly the way he does. Something happened to her in Jerusalem. I don't know what but the scars are deep. You didn't know her before. It changed her. With him, the old Mac was back. I think Rod will find love and happiness. But Mac…." Carl shook his head. "What happens if you don't say something? You know how stubborn she is."

"He's pretty bullheaded, too."

"Can you talk to him? Make him listen. Maybe he'll go to her. I've tried to talk to her. She won't listen to me."

"I don't think so," Cooper said. "He feels betrayed. I'm afraid she's the one who'll have to make the first move."

"But will she do it on her own?"

"I doubt it. Too proud."

"That, and she doesn't understand what happened—what he must have thought and why he walked out."

"Yeah," Cooper said with a sigh.

"Cooper, you have to talk to her. She needs you to intervene. Her future—her happiness—is at stake. Both their futures."

"I don't know, Carl. I'd be betraying Rod's confidence. I promised him I wouldn't say anything."

"It's time you break that promise. She needs to know. And you're the only one who can do it."

"Carl, I can't…"

"She needs you to do it—they both need you to do it. You'll regret it if you don't. As Shakespeare said, 'Once more unto the breach, dear friend, once more… or close up the wall with our dead.'"


	34. Unto the Breach

**34. Unto the Breach**

Cooper felt caught between the proverbial rock and its corresponding hard place. He was trapped on all sides and was now a true believer in the philosophy that "ignorance is bliss."

He didn't know what to do. Over the next week he studied Rod and Mac closely. They hid their feelings well, but they were miserable apart. He witnessed the longing in their eyes when they looked at each other when the other one wasn't watching. And he saw the proud defiance and feigned disinterest when they knew the other was paying attention.

Rod would not make the first move in this instance. He had his share of pride. Cooper couldn't blame him. He had a huge heart, and he'd been leveled by her reaction.

At the same time, he recognized Mac was incapable of making the first move without assistance. To do so would require an admission of fault or, at the very least, to an error in judgment—either of which Mackenzie Spencer Allen, under the best of circumstances, would be loathe to acknowledge. He had never known anyone who needed to be right more than she did.

If he left the two of them to their own devices, they would never work things out. Something had to be done, but how? How did he honor his promise to Rod and his friendship with the two of them and Mike?

Finally, a few days before the end of finals, he reached a decision. He had to speak with Mac. It wouldn't be easy. It wouldn't be fun. But Carl was right. It had to be done. He had to go "unto the breach" in the hope that the walls standing between them would come tumbling down.

That afternoon, he found Mac sitting at her desk in the journal offices. He'd chosen a time when Mike was taking an exam. "Hey, Mac."

"Hi," she said turning towards him.

Despite the smile she wore, she was weary and exhausted beyond what was expected from the ordinary stress of finals. As if she hadn't had a peaceful night's sleep in some time. Seeing her appearance strengthened his commitment to his chosen course of action. "You look like you could use a break."

She sighed. "I'd love one but I've still got a paper to finish and a ton of journal work to get through before Saturday afternoon."

"Come on, you need some fresh air."

"You're right but I can't..."

"Yes, Mackenzie, you can," Cooper interrupted. "Take a walk with me. Thirty minutes won't make a difference. Get your coat and let's go."

Mac was puzzled by his insistent tone and the use of her given name. She'd seen this side of him in moot court competitions but never in their personal relationship. Finally, she said "okay." She grabbed her coat and the two of them left the school.

Fortunately, it was a mild January day and a pleasant afternoon for a walk. After some minutes, she asked, "What's going on? We're not out here to get some air."

He stopped and turned towards her. "You're right. We need to talk." He pointed to a nearby bench and they sat down.

"What's this about?"

"Have you spoken to Rod at all?"

"No," she answered definitively with a furrowed brow.

"Don't you think you should?"

She folded her arms and said emphatically, "He's the one who walked away—not me. If he wants to talk, he can come to me."

"I don't think that's what happened. I think you got it wrong."

"With all due respect, Cooper, it's none of your business. I know you're his friend and that you're on his side. But stay out of it."

"I can't," Cooper said quietly. "I wish I could. Yes, he's my friend. But so are you. I care about you and want you to be happy. That's why I can't stay out of it. The truth is you love him… you miss him."

"He's the one who walked out—not me. He's the one who broke up with me. If he wants to change that, he knows where to find me."

"So you're going to let pride and a little thing on the basketball court keep you from everything you've ever wanted in a relationship?" he asked rhetorically. After a moment's pause, he continued, "Mac, you need to understand that an act that would never be acceptable off the court can sometimes not only be appropriate but necessary on the court. It's all about context."

"That doesn't apply to assault," she responded bluntly. "I understand the concept of standing your ground, Cooper. But this was ruthless. It was intolerable and it was cruel. Why does Rod hate him so?"

"What do you know about their history?"

"Just that they were acquainted before law school."

"What has Rod told you?"

"That it's none of my business and not a big deal. Only he refuses even to give Mike a chance. Refuses to be friends or make any effort at all."

"What has Mike told you about Rod?"

"Nothing of consequence."

"Come on, Mac. That's a lie and we both know it. I'm betting he's repeatedly told you that Rod is nothing but a rich, spoiled player with a short attention span—that you're not his type, that he's using you and that he can't be trusted or depended upon. Am I right?"

She didn't answer.

"So you know, I haven't talked to Rod. He has no idea we're having this conversation. He'd be furious if he thought I was interfering. Neither have I spoken to Mike. We're having this conversation because I care about _you_—because I want what is best for _you_."

"What do you want from me?"

"You know Mike's history. He had it rough as a kid and has had to fight for everything. He's intense and he's extremely competitive. And understandably he has a huge chip on his shoulder. But he's resented Rod from the day they first came in contact with each other. I know because I was there. They were sophmores and I was a junior. It was the last series of the season. Two games. If we won a game then the Ivy League Championship was ours. If Yale won both games, it was theirs."

"Okay?" She had no idea why he would dredge up the past and baseball in particular.

"Rod pitched the first game–the entire game—almost flawlessly. He struck Mike out three times. Mike liked to crowd the plate. Rod didn't like it so early in the game he pitched Mike high and tight. He nearly hit Mike on a couple of pitches. It worked. It accomplished what Rod intended. It got Mike off balance. Mike was furious–especially when he struck out in the bottom of the ninth inning with two men on base giving Yale a 1-0 win.

"During the second game the following day, Rod played third base and Mike while sliding into third, on a double-play ball, kicked Rod in the face with his cleat which resulted in a nasty cut to the mouth. I'm not saying it was anything but…." Cooper shrugged. "Rod didn't do anything back. He didn't have to because he held onto the ball and in the end Yale won the game.

"Shortly after that Rod came over to see me at Princeton. We went to a party and he ended up hooking up with a girl that Mike had been interested in for a long time."

"But Coop, it's been five years. It's stupid, juvenile and it's ancient history. What relevance could that possibly have now?"

"That's something you'll have to decide," he replied. "And when you do, keep this in mind: Rod didn't recognize Mike when we started the semester. I had to tell him who he was. So why would there still be bad blood between them? What possible reason would Rod have to throw an elbow?"

"I know why he did it, Cooper," she responded strongly without hesitation. "He did it because he was angry that I wouldn't have sex with him."

He was flabbergasted. "That's what you think? What you honestly believe? Mac, he loves you. He's not that guy…"

"It's what I know," she interrupted.

"You told him this?"

"Of course. Why do you think I was so angry?"

"Wow…" Cooper unknowingly said aloud while staring across the campus. "It explains so much. No wonder he walked away and why he's convinced there's no trust."

"What are you muttering about?"

"Nothing." He took a deep breath and turned back to face her. "You're wrong," he said gently. "There's a lot you don't know. A lot you need to know."

"You obviously have all the answers," she said sardonically. "So tell me. What don't I know?"

Ignoring her tone, he shook his head. "I can't. It's not my place."

"Well then, if there really is more to this whole thing, why didn't Rod tell me? Why keep it from me?"

"I don't know," Cooper acknowledged. Quietly he asked, "But did you give him a chance? Or had you already made up your mind?" He studied her for a moment. He knew he wouldn't get an answer from her. Frankly, he didn't want or expect one. His only goal was to make her think—make her reexamine what had happened and why. "How important is the truth to you? That's what you need to ask yourself."

Mac didn't know what to think—only that his words and demeanor had somehow pierced through her anger and had left her astounded.

Thinking about what Carl had told him, he reached out and took one of her hands. Looking her squarely in the eye he continued, "I don't think your argument was about Mike. I think it was an excuse. I think you were looking for a reason to break it off. You're afraid that Rod might, in fact, be everything you've ever dreamed about—that he might be exactly the man you need him to be. And that's much scarier than if he weren't, or only pretended to be, because you'll be forced to put yourself out there, to make yourself vulnerable. But what you're scared of–what you don't trust–is not him, it's you."

He gave her hand a little squeeze. "Think about your future. About what you really want. Then think about what you're potentially giving up if you let things stay as they are. Learn the truth, Mackenzie. It may set you free." He kissed her gently on the cheek and left her sitting on the bench.

XXXXXXXXXX

Severely shaken, Mac sat motionless after Cooper left. She'd worked so hard the past two months to forget about what had happened—to forget about him. Now the fragile scab she'd grown around her heart had been torn wide open, left bleeding and raw.

After a time, questions replaced shock and she grew restless. She wandered around campus, looking for answers, searching for peace. She hadn't been looking to end things. Cooper was wrong about that… wasn't he? But had she been blind to the truth? Was he right in that regard? Had she overreacted? What actually happened on the court that morning and why? What didn't she know?

Eventually she ended up sitting on the steps in front of the law library. The pleasant winter day had transformed into a cold winter night. She didn't care. In truth, she didn't notice. Her focus was entirely on Cooper's last words: _Think about your future… and what you're giving up if you let things stay as they are. Learn the truth…. It will set you free._

Her thoughts were interrupted by someone calling her name. She turned towards the sound and discovered Mike walking towards her.

"Where have you been? And what are you doing out here? It's freezing and I've been looking all over for you."

"Sorry," she responded feebly. "I had some thinking to do. Needed some air."

"Do you want to get some dinner?"

"No," she shook her head. "I'm not hungry."

He sat down next to her. Putting an arm around her shoulder, he said, "You look lost? What's going on?"

As she turned to answer him, she caught sight of Rod coming out of the library. Their eyes met and she saw a look of contempt in his eyes that made her sick. Again Cooper's words echoed in her brain: _Learn the truth, Mackenzie. Learn the truth…._

"Let's go inside," she said once Rod had gone. "You're right, it's freezing out here."

"Okay," he said.

Silently they walked across the quad and up to the journal office. He shut the door behind them. "You know, you can talk to me."

Mac took off her coat, sat down at her desk and watched him pull over a chair. After he sat down, she studied him for a moment. He had the answers she needed. "Why did Rod elbow you?"

"What?" He hadn't expected this question from her. He thought it was over between them… that she'd moved on. Or at least that had been his hope. He was lying to himself. She put on a smiling face but she wasn't happy. And he knew the two of them were too much alike to work as more than friends. Calloway, on the other hand, was good for her. He hated to admit it, but it was true.

"Why, Mike?" she persisted. "Why did it happen?"

"I told you already… because I had it coming."

"That's not good enough. I need to know the truth."

"Why?" he questioned. "I told you from the beginning it was my fault and not to make something out of nothing. You didn't listen then… so why does it matter now?"

"The truth always matters," she said quietly, refusing to break eye contact with him.

Silently they looked at one another until finally, he said with an acquiescent sigh, "You're right. The truth is that I made a mistake. I was wrong. I didn't mean for it to injure him, but it did."

Instantly Mac felt that uncomfortable heat of dread wash over her. "What are you saying?"

"I was the one who committed the foul when he broke his arm."

Her worst fears confirmed, she closed her eyes and remembered how close Rod had come to dying because of that injury, and how miserable he'd been for days afterward. And for the first time she forced herself to think on the look of disbelief and hurt she'd seen on his face when she'd angrily thrown her accusations at him during their final conversation. He must hate her.

Seeing her response, Mike said desperately, "I'm really sorry, Mac. I told you it was a mistake. Now you know. I had it coming. I deserved what I got."

She opened her eyes. "Why, Mike? Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because of what we saw at the movies that night. You were so hurt. And he was so smug and cocky that morning." He shrugged. "I couldn't take it. I just lost it."

"He was with his sister."

"I know that now. I didn't then… and neither did you. You were devastated and it broke my heart. I didn't learn about his sister until after he'd thrown the elbow."

"Why didn't you tell me the truth? We talked about it several times. You could have told me. You should have told me."

"I didn't want you to hate me. And I figured if Rod hadn't told you, then why should I?" He shook his head. "The ironic thing is that in the past couple of months, we've made our peace. We're not friends or anything, but the animosity on the court is gone." He looked at her directly before continuing, "He had to respond, Mac. I wanted him to do it."

"I can't believe this," Mac said. "You, Cooper… Rod. All of you knew and none of you said…"

"Cooper wasn't there that morning."

"He may not have been there, but he knows. He's nobody's fool."

"I don't know, Mac. I feel really bad about it but…"

"And what about Rod? I can't believe he didn't say anything. Not then and not after the elbow. Why? Why keep it a secret?"

"I don't know. Did you give him a chance to explain? Or did you do what I told you not to do—make a deal out of nothing?"

She stared at him.

"I don't know why he didn't tell you initially. But I can guess. He was protecting someone and it wasn't me. I think he threw the elbow for the same reason: He was thinking of you." He paused and then quietly continued, "Mac, your friendship means a lot to me and I'm sorry for what I did. But I told you to leave it alone. You know that. So is it me that you're mad at… or is it yourself? Why didn't you listen to me? Why did you react the way you did? Maybe that's what you really need to discover."

She heard his words but she didn't want to think about what possible truth they contained. She stood and grabbed her coat and purse.

"Mac, don't hate me… and don't leave angry."

"I'm not angry," she said. And she wasn't. Anger had already cost her too much. "I'm not," she assured him again. "And I don't hate you. I may not be happy with you at the moment, but I don't hate you."

"Okay."

"But I do need to think about some things. Figure out where I go from here. I'll see you later." She turned and walked towards the door.

"I am sorry," he called out as she opened the door.

She turned back before leaving. "I know. Me, too."

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac left the law school and walked to the apartment. However, she didn't go inside. Carl and Sue would be there. He'd finished his exams and the two of them were leaving for Michigan early the next morning. While she appreciated and relied on their friendship, tonight she couldn't cope with the questions and concern—the pity—she would inevitably see lurking in their eyes.

She climbed in her car, turned off the radio and aimlessly drove around New Haven with only her thoughts for company. She reflected on what had happened and her reaction. She contemplated the past and the present. Mostly, however, she thought about the future and what she wanted it to be.

Surprisingly these thoughts didn't leave her confused or encumbered, they liberated her. At peace for the first time in months, she purposefully drove to where her future lie. It was getting late but he would be up. She needed to see him. When she'd initially heard his last words, she thought he'd been taunting her: _If you change your mind… you know where to find me._ Now she understood that even in his anger and hurt, he'd been leaving a door open for her—for them. She only hoped it wasn't too late.

The parking lot at the complex was unusually full. She drove around and finally found a parking spot down the street. Hurriedly she walked towards the condo. She was relieved to see that the lights were on and the Porsche was in its spot.

However, as she approached, she discovered he wasn't alone. Sitting next to him on the couch was a girl she recognized from his class. They were laughing and appeared to be having a minor food fight with powdered donuts. Her heart broke. He was happy. She was too late.


	35. Disappointment or Regret

**35. Disappointment or Regret**

Mac sighed heavily as she pulled into the family driveway. She was glad to be back in Bridgeport. She'd surprised her mother with the unexpected news that she'd be home Friday rather than Saturday evening. After leaving Rod's place, she'd returned to the law school where she worked all night and the next day finishing her paper and journal work, allowing for no interruptions or distractions.

She grabbed her duffel bag and headed inside. Typically she loved the days off between terms. It was a complete vacation from school—no reading, no outlines, and no papers or journal work. She'd felt free and easy then. Tonight, however, she felt inconsolable, her heart split wide open.

Immediately the aroma wafting through the open doorway alerted her to the reality that dinner and her mother were waiting for her in the kitchen. A smile creased her face and her mood lightened a little. Growing up she could always count on her mother's presence in the kitchen at the end of the day. Nothing had changed. It remained a comfort to her, a symbol of that stability and security craved by children at any age—five or twenty-five.

Quietly she closed the door, took off her coat and left it and her bag on the stairs. She peeked around the kitchen doorway. As expected Kate was putting the finishing touches on the table setting. Mac studied her mother for a moment and envied the contentment that had always radiated from her.

"I'm home," Mac announced eventually with as much cheerfulness as she could muster.

Kate looked up and smiled. "You made good time. But you look exhausted."

Mac shrugged. "It's that time of year."

Kate eyed her daughter skeptically as she gave her a hug. Usually Mackenzie was full of energy after finishing a school term. "Are you hungry?"

"Sure," Mac responded nonchalantly. "Looks good." She took her normal seat at the table and noticed it was only set for two. "Where's Dad?"

"He had to fly to San Diego this morning on some emergency," Kate said bringing a couple bowls of clam chowder to the table. "He should be back Monday or Tuesday."

Mac dipped a piece of bread into the bowl. Normally she loved her mother's homemade chowder, but tonight it was tasteless. "Is he still leaving at the end of the week?"

Kate set a plate of salad in front of her daughter and sat down. "Fortunately that's been pushed back at a week."

"How long will he be gone?"

Kate had always been grateful that despite the lengthy separations, there was a close bond between father and daughter. Of course, they were very much alike. "Not sure. Likely 3-5 months."

"That long?" Mac asked with a hint of desperation. "What about graduation?"

"He'd retire before he'd miss seeing you get that degree."

Mac returned the smile and took a bite of salad. It, too, was flavorless.

Kate was worried. Mackenzie had been miserable since breaking up with Rod. But it appeared to be getting worse rather than better. After a few minutes spent watching her play with the food, she asked, "Honey, what is it? I know you're trying to put on a happy face. It's not working. Talk to me. Is it Rod?"

Mac put down her fork and looked at her mother. She couldn't fight back the emotions any longer. "I blew it, Mom. Made a monumental mistake. He didn't walk away… I drove him to it. I was blind to everything and reacted so badly. Said some horrible things and now he hates me."

"Have you talked to him? Told him how you feel?"

"No," she said with a shake of the head. "I wanted to but…"

Kate physically ached for her daughter. "What happened? What did you argue about?"

"Rod threw an elbow at Mike on the basketball court. Mike needed stitches and I got angry and confrontational even though I was told repeatedly to leave it alone."

"That doesn't sound like Rod. There's got to be more to the story."

"There is—a lot more. It was Mike's fault, not Rod's. I know it's not like him, yet I went off on him anyway. Only when Rod tried to explain it to me, I wouldn't listen. I told him we were finished and said some awful things. When he got fed up and agreed we were over, I was too angry and shocked to stop him from leaving. And even when he left the door open, I didn't understand."

"Why did you react like that, do you think?"

"I don't know," Mac said. "It's complicated. At the time things were somewhat unsettled between us and I was tired and out of sorts."

"I see."

"Cooper finally intervened yesterday. He forced me to listen."

"Good for him. What did he tell you?"

"A lot of things. He thinks I was looking for a reason to break things off because I was scared—terrified of leaving myself vulnerable, afraid that Rod might be everything I want and need in a relationship."

"Were you?"

"I don't know, Mom," she answered with a slight shake of her head. "I've thought about it and I just don't know. Do you think he could be right?"

"I do."

"Really?"

Kate nodded. "You've never wanted to talk about it—and I understand and admire your strength. But what happened to you in Jerusalem changed you—until recently—until Rod. I can't imagine how devastating that time must have been, particularly all alone in a foreign country. I'm proud of how you've persevered. That being said, I think there's a big part of you that hasn't recovered from that heartache. Oh, you do a good job disguising it. However, maybe you are afraid that it could happen again with Rod. So maybe subconsciously you decided it would be less painful to end it before you got in deeper. But Mackenzie, I think you're already in too deep for that to work because you love him—totally and completely."

"Yeah," she agreed with a sigh.

"I know it's painful," Kate continued, "but maybe it's time to talk about Jerusalem. It might put everything in perspective so you can put it behind you once and for all."

Mac closed her eyes to ward off the tears she could no longer fight. She _was_ in too deep. Jerusalem had never felt this bad. And if Cooper and her mother were correct, then she was the one responsible for her broken heart. It was a bed she had made, and that was the worst feeling of all.

Kate wanted to cry, too. She reached out and gently laid a hand on her arm. "When was the last time you slept?"

Mac opened her eyes. "Wednesday night."

"And when was the last time you had a good night's sleep?"

"I don't know… probably Dad's birthday weekend."

Her daughter had never required much sleep. However, two months was ridiculous. Kate pushed back her chair and stood up. "Come on. What you need most tonight is a hot bath and a long sleep."

Mac nodded and followed her mother upstairs and silently watched while she turned on the bedroom lights, started the bath water and turned down the bed. She was too exhausted to do anything else.

Before leaving the room, Kate kissed her on the cheek. "We'll talk tomorrow. But I want you to know this… Rod knows you and understands you. He loves you deeply. He would do anything for you—anything to make you happy. Hold on to that tonight. Trust it. Trust him. Concentrate on all the ways he's demonstrated that love. Okay?"

"I'll try."

"Mackenzie, a love that deep and true doesn't simply disappear because of a bump in the road. And that's all this is… the first of many bumps in the road in what I'm certain will be a long, happy, and very fulfilling relationship. Now sleep. This, too, shall pass. Things will look different tomorrow."

"Thanks, Mom," Mac said with a weak smile.

"I love you."

"Me, too."

XXXXXXXXXX

Kate was baking chocolate chip cookies the next day when Mac walked into the kitchen looking fresher and happier than the night before. "Good afternoon," she said in a teasing tone.

"Hi," Mac responded with a sheepish smile.

It was 3 p.m. She couldn't believe she'd slept so long or so well. Never in her life had she slept past nine. Her mom's advice had worked. She'd thought about the protective way Rod looked out for her at all times even when she resisted, and the weekly roses that always brought a smile to her face. She'd recalled his cocky grin whenever he teased her, and the serious, husky quality in his voice whenever he told her she was beautiful and desirable. She'd remembered how he attacked rowing with humor and determination wanting only to be with her, and how they laughed while lying together on the deck of his boat after her fishing mishap. Mostly though, she'd reflected on how time stood still when he kissed her, the haven she found when enclosed in his arms, and the overwhelming peace she felt whenever he put their foreheads together and whispered, "I love you."

"Do you want a late breakfast… or milk and cookies?"

"Definitely milk and cookies," she responded dryly. She sat down at the table and was soon joined by her mother, a plate of cookies and two tall glasses of milk.

After several cookies and a few minutes of companionable silence, Mac spoke. "His name is David…."

When she finished reciting her story, Kate comprehended much more about what had happened and why. "No wonder that experience has been impacting you so strongly. The similarities between the two of them are almost uncanny."

"I know," Mac acknowledged. "It hit me one night at a most inopportune moment. You and Cooper are right. I haven't laid David to rest and he's been distorting my perception of everything. I have been afraid—terrified that Rod would become David. It's paralyzed me."

"I can understand that response. But in reality, they are nothing alike. David is a coward—afraid to be his own man. He was too weak to love you like you deserved to be loved, and too insecure to go against his family's predetermined plan for his life. Rod is nothing like him."

"I know."

"David may have dictated your past, but he doesn't have to win. Don't let him keep you from embracing love and happiness—from finding joy. You can't do anything about what happened in the past. However, you can learn from it. You're in charge of the present and ultimately your future."

"You're right. I'm just afraid it's too late… that he's moved on. I've seen him with other girls. He looks happy. And when he looks at me all I see is resentment and contempt."

Kate thoughtfully contemplated her daughter's words for a moment before an idea came to her. "You're wearing your Christmas present."

Mac touched her throat and fingered the necklace she wore. It was exquisite. A single, flawless pearl encircled by diamonds on a fine gold chain. "I love it. I've never seen anything like it. I wear it all the time. It's too formal but I don't care. I can't believe you and Dad were so extravagant." Wearing it made her feel cherished. It had been a welcome reminder that she truly was at the center of their world.

"It wasn't from us."

"I don't understand. You gave it to me…"

"I'll be right back." Kate went upstairs and returned a few minutes later with a note card, which she handed to her daughter.

Mac opened the card and immediately noticed the familiar script. She looked inquisitively at her mother and received a smile and a nod in return. Her eyes darted back to the note and holding her breath she silently read:

_December 20, 1994_

_Dear Kate,_

_I know you and Michael must have many questions about what happened. I do, too. I love her. However, she'd rather be with him. I have to accept that and endeavor to move on. I'd try and change her mind. But what would be the point? She doesn't trust me. Without that, we could never have the relationship I want and she deserves._

_I do have a favor to ask. I had this necklace made for her as a Christmas gift when we were still together. It could never be worn by anybody else. I'd like her to have it. But I don't want her to know its origins. I don't want to interfere or be seen as a sore loser. Would you please give it to her and pretend it's from you? It's better this way._

_I wish with everything in me that things had worked out different. You know it's not what I want. It's what I must learn to accept. Thank you for your kindness and hospitality._

_Rod_

When she finished reading, she breathed deeply in an attempt to regain her equilibrium. With her free hand, she again gently fingered her necklace. She looked at her mother. "Oh, Mom," she said eventually, her voice laced with emotion. "How can I have been so blind?" She shook her held in self-contempt. "Now it's probably too late."

"I don't think so—and neither does your father."

"Dad?"

"I spoke with him last night. He said if you need him here, he'll tell the Navy to 'go to hell.'" She and Michael mutually understood how critical this time was to their daughter's future. If she couldn't let go of the past now, she might never be liberated from it.

Mac grinned. "What else did he say?"

"To tell you to be brave. That Rod loves you and he completes you. He'll neither hold you back nor let you control everything. And Dad said to tell you he loves you, too, and to remind you that you are his pride and joy."

"How'd I manage to hit the jackpot in the parent game?"

"Obviously the roll of a lifetime," Kate answered lightly before again turning serious. "I don't know what Rod is thinking today. But I know what he was thinking not too many weeks ago and now so do you. And I'm certain his love for you hasn't vanished in that short intervening period. You're the one who has to decide. He won't come to you. This is your test. It's up to you."

"I don't know what to do."

"Make things right," Kate said definitively.

"What if he really is no longer interested?"

"You know, instead of contempt or resentment what you could be seeing is hurt. He's strong, Mac, and he's proud. He's also incredibly gentle and caring."

"Yes, he is."

"And if he has moved on," Kate told her, "it's his loss. Isn't it better to live with disappointment than regret?"

Mac tilted her head and gave a half-believing gesture with her eyes. "I guess."

"Mackenzie Spencer Allen," she said insistently, "you are a proud and stubborn woman, but you are no fool. Talk to the man."

"I'll think about it," Mac answered with a casual smile. "Now, how about I treat you to our traditional double feature at the movies and a ridiculously expensive dinner afterward?"

"Sounds perfect. Welcome back, Mackenzie… welcome back."


	36. Needs and Wants

**36. Needs and Wants**

Rod raised his head and looked at the clock next to his bed: 5:00 a.m. He turned his pillow over to the cool side and closed his eyes. He'd sleep for another couple of hours and then head to campus to see if there was a pickup game going. He tossed and turned for the next thirty minutes and then gave up.

He rolled out of bed and almost rolled back in. It was frigid. Shivering, he quickly turned off the ceiling fan and turned on the heat. He liked the temperature cold when he slept. But it was a freezing January morning.

Wearing only a pair of long shorts, he strode into the kitchen and hurriedly made a protein drink before turning on the fireplace in the living room and settling himself on the adjacent love seat, his long legs stretched out on the hearth. The heat felt good on his bare legs, arms and chest.

While leisurely drinking his routine pre-exercise meal, he let his thoughts wander. School started again on Wednesday. But until then, he had 48 hours of peace, or at least quiet. He hadn't been at peace in…. He counted back the weeks and came up with nine. Exactly nine weeks since his future had become clouded—since everything he wanted, and everything he'd been planning for, had seemingly disappeared in the blink of an eye. Or more precisely, in the few seconds it takes to throw an elbow. He shook his head. That last part wasn't accurate. His choice on the basketball court wasn't the cause of their break up. It didn't create the rift between them.

He still had so many questions about what had happened and why. Almost hourly he had to fight the urge to force her to listen. He resisted because it would change nothing—not anything of significance. He might be able to get her to listen. However, he couldn't compel her to trust and open her heart to him. Only she could make that decision. It had to be done freely, and not the product of coercion. He loved her. But it wasn't enough. Not for either of them.

Silently he berated himself. _It's been nine weeks, bud. Isn't that time enough for things to change if they're going to change? Besides, she hasn't changed her mind. She's still with him all the time. Move on. Let go._

He'd never been in this position before, and he was learning it wasn't easy to forget or to give up hope—no matter how fleeting or unlikely it may be. If it were, he'd currently be on a cruise ship in the Caribbean with several of his classmates, including some very hot females who'd been flirting with him like crazy the past several weeks now that he was (at least theoretically) back "on the market."

He'd played along with them. Why not? He was a free man. But it wasn't fair to them. His motives weren't what they should be. He was motivated by several thoughts and none of them were right. They were human but they weren't right. He was proud, angry and frustrated. And if he was honest, he'd been trying to make her jealous by hanging out with them, and returning their flirtatious smiles and comments. A part of him wanted to hurt her like he'd been hurt; and he hoped that maybe somehow it would cause her to change her mind.

The bottom line, however, was that they weren't what he wanted or needed; and it wasn't fair to any of them—including her—to continue to play that game. They were girls—nice girls—but girls nonetheless. Mackenzie, on the other hand, was a woman. A brilliant, beautiful, affectionate, proud, challenging woman, with a sensitive soul she fought against lest she be perceived as weak. And he still loved her.

He looked around the room. He hadn't spent much time here the past nine weeks. He slept here. That was about it. During finals he'd had a couple of cram sessions here with his study group, but that was only because it was quiet and they could spread out. Otherwise, he'd been avoiding the place. Everything in his home reminded him of her. He felt like he no longer belonged. He was a stranger here and not, the king of his castle.

Suddenly an idea came to him. Maybe if he sold the place—or at least rented it out, and bought a new place, it would help him do what he had to find a way to do: Let go and move on. After basketball, he'd pick up one of the local real estate newspapers that could be found at every gas station and grocery store.

He was awake now and warm. _Time to go work off the day's frustrations in advance_, he told himself. He washed out the blender and his glass then went into the spare bedroom to get his shaving kit from its bathroom. _Enough is enough_, he told himself. _Today you are using your bathroom._ He'd been in there one time in nine weeks. He'd taken one look at the mirror, hastily gathered his toiletries and walked out, angrily slamming the door behind him. _Coward, wimp… fool_, he chastised.

He took a deep breath, opened the bathroom door and turned on the light. He removed his razor, toothpaste and toothbrush from his kit. He couldn't, however, get himself to look at the mirror. He knew he should grab a wet towel and wipe it all away. But he couldn't. He was stuck. He couldn't look at it and he couldn't admit it was truly over between them by removing it. _It's okay_, he told himself. _Give yourself a break. You're here. Tomorrow… or the next day… or even the next, you'll do what needs to be done._ He could brush his teeth and wash his face without looking at it. Until he could force himself to look at it or wipe it clean, he simply wouldn't shave—or he'd do it at the gym.

He put on his basketball clothes and running shoes, and threw some jeans, loafers and a sweatshirt along with his basketball shoes in his gym bag. He'd run a few miles and lift weights and then hopefully play some hoops. He'd been logging a lot of miles on the treadmill and repetitions in the weight room the past several weeks. The gym was one place he'd always felt at home. On the way out he turned off the fireplace, grabbed a jacket and his car keys.

He shivered again as he was confronted by the frosty morning air. Quickly he moved to the car. Unfortunately the windows were covered with ice. He turned on the engine and the front and rear defrosts. The next place he bought would have a garage, he decided, as he hastily he scraped most of the window area before driving the short distance to campus.

XXXXXXXXXX

A couple of hours later he left the basketball court with Cooper. He'd been surprised to find Cooper around today since it was break.

"You free this morning?" Cooper asked as they walked into the locker room.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Let's get some breakfast. I'm starved."

"Sounds good," Rod agreed.

The quickly showered and changed but Rod decided not to bother shaving. There really was no point in the exercise today. Hanging out is all he would be doing the next couple of days.

They decided to eat at the main campus cafeteria. They didn't want to bother with their cars and it was too cold to walk someplace off campus. Grabbing a couple of trays they went through the serving line. Cooper was first and Rod followed him to a table in the corner.

After they had made a good start on attacking their food, Rod asked, "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you'd be on a beach somewhere, basking in the sun and waiting for a monster wave."

"Would like to be doing that, but I'm an engaged man, remember? And Kim's in school."

Rod shook his head with a smile. "I can't believe she's actually willing to tie herself to your miserable hide. Particularly after that freaky proposal."

Cooper returned his cheeky grin. "What can I say? She's a wise woman." He returned his focus to the stack of pancakes in front of him, trying to figure out how to bring up the conversation they needed to have.

After a few minutes Rod asked, "Hey, the moot court team runs the first year competition, right?" The legal writing class for 1L's spring term consisted of participation in a moot court competition. Each student was assigned to represent a party in a mock appeal, which included writing a brief and participating in an oral argument before a panel of judges.

"Yeah," Cooper acknowledged. "Carl's actually the one in charge but we'll all be involved."

"You'll help an old friend out with some advice, right?" He found the whole process rather intimidating at the moment.

"Sure."

Rod put down his fork. "Coop…"

Cooper looked up. "Yeah?"

"You've been distracted all morning. What's going on?"

He, too, put down his fork and pushed aside his tray. Taking a deep breath he said, "I had a long talk with Mac right before the break."

Rod stared at him. Just hearing her name spoken aloud still physically affected him. "I see." Trying to appear only casually interested he took a drink of juice. "How is she?"

"How do you think she is?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Every time I see her she seems happy. Content to be with Mike." He and Stanton may have made their peace on the basketball court, but that didn't mean he had to like the guy.

"That is a load of crap," Cooper said raising his voice. "She's miserable. She's not interested in Mike. They're only friends and you know it."

"They sure looked cozy the other night sitting on the library steps together with his arm all over her," Rod said defiantly. "She definitely wasn't fighting him off. Seemed to be enjoying his touch."

"Just like you're enjoying the attention of every hot girl in the first year class—along with more than a few in the second and third year classes?"

"I'm a free man," Rod responded with an indifferent shrug. "Why not enjoy what the law school has to offer? You of all people should understand how it is."

"Bull shit," Cooper told him bluntly.

He was momentarily stunned by his friend's reaction. But then he smiled. Cooper knew him too well. "All right. I get the message. So are you going to tell me what the two of you talked about?"

"I can't. It's not my place," he said meeting Rod's questioning look.

Rod studied him. One quality he'd always admired in Cooper was his loyalty. But he also knew that he would not have brought the subject up if there weren't something he wanted him to understand. "So why bring it up?"

"I don't know. Thought you should know." In truth, Cooper wanted him prepared. If Mac did make a move, he wanted him in the right frame of mind to give her what she needed and not throw her offering back in her face.

"I see."

"Look, Rod. I'm on your side. In your shoes I'd have reacted the same way—both with Mike and with her. But no matter how many cute classmates I see around you, I know you're not interested in any of them. Mac is the woman you _want._ And, for what it's worth, I strongly believe that you are the man she _needs_."

He sighed heavily. "Thanks, Coop. I mean it. And I agree with you. I'm not the one you need to convince though. My feelings and desires virtually from the moment we collided have never been in doubt. They still aren't. But this… this has to be up to Mackenzie."


	37. Let's Be Us Again

**37. Let's Be Us Again**

Precisely as the morning's pickup game broke up on Wednesday morning, an attractive female walked onto the court with one hand behind her back. Balls stopped bouncing, all conversation and laughter ceased, and fifteen pairs of male eyes immediately focused exclusively on her. Only one of them, however, had her attention—the "gorgeous" one, who stood "6'5" tall with plenty of dark hair and soulful grey-green eyes."

"Are you Roderic?" she asked him.

"Roderic?" Some of the guys howled in mocking tones while several others let out catcalls and wolf-whistles.

Rod had never seen her before. He was surprised and slightly embarrassed by the attention. But he had to admit that she was cute—young, but cute. "Yeah?" he responded, his eyes full of questions.

"This is for you." She handed him a single red rose and a small envelope she'd been concealing.

Stunned, he accepted her offerings and watched her turn around to walk off the court before thanking her almost as an afterthought. Quickly he tore open the envelope and pulled out a note card, which read: _I figured the chance of us colliding on the first morning of this term was negligible, so I decided to skip forward to the next step: 93 N.E.2d 554._

As he read, his pulse sped up and his breathing ceased. _93 N.E.2d 554. She'd remembered_. Monday's conversation with Cooper now made sense. He pocketed the note and looked around until he found his friend. Cooper was wearing a huge grin on his face. He nodded in understanding, answered the smile with one of his own, and walked off the court.

Mike, having witnessed his reaction, also recognized what this was about. "Calloway…" he called out as Rod was exiting.

Unsure of the type of response he was about to receive, he slowly stopped and turned around, his arms folded in a defensive posture and a look of defiance on his face.

Mike waited until their eyes locked. With a sincere smile he said, "Go get her, champ."

Rod relaxed. "Count on it, Stanton."

He quickly showered, dressed—and shaved—then practically ran to the law library. As he took the stairs to the third floor where the Northwestern Reporter, Second Series, was located, he silently laughed at her chosen method of contact this morning.

He pulled volume 93 from the shelf and turned to page 554, where he knew a case entitled _Allen v. Allen_ would be found. There another note card was waiting for him: _If you're the man I think you are, you'll meet me in Room 112 at 10 a.m. In case you've forgotten, it's located in the southeast corner of the first floor._

_I haven't forgotten_, he said quietly as he returned the book to the shelf. He sat down at the nearest table, stared at her words, and pondered the invitation. He looked at his watch and, with a smile, realized that he was yet again late for his first class of the term. And again, it was all her fault.

Hurriedly he left the library and walked across the quad to where his Constitutional Law class was waiting. His attendance there, however, would be in vain. There was not a chance in hell that anything the professor had to say this morning would do anything other than pass fleetingly through his brain. And that was fine with him. Besides he knew a brilliant tutor if later he needed some assistance.

XXXXXXXXXX

By 9:45 a.m. Mac had things ready in the little study room that somehow had become their own. Like Rod had done months earlier, she had a big vase of roses sitting on the table. Only these roses were all red. She sat down to wait. She had never been more afraid in her life. _What if he didn't show? What if they were all wrong and he was, in fact, no longer interested?_ In spite of the pep talk she'd received from "the Admiral" after his return yesterday morning, she'd fought a million similar questions since leaving Bridgeport yesterday afternoon.

She was soon restless. She folded and unfolded her arms, crossed and uncrossed her legs, leaned forwards and back on her chair, checked and rechecked the time. Finally she forced herself to sit still, breathing deep. _This is for you_, she repeated. _This is for you. Regardless of what happens with him, this is what you need to do for you._

At 10 a.m. sharp, the door opened and Rod appeared. In an instant the room shrunk. The mere sight of him, up close and larger than life, had her silently wondering how she ever could have doubted him—this man who, at one time at least, had loved her deeply. _ Please,_ she pleaded, _don't let it be too late._

At the same time he took one look at her and all the air left his lungs. She was wearing her sweatshirt. Instantly he fell in love all over again. She was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. His body ached with desire.

"Hey," she said finally looking up into his face.

"Hey," he answered in the same husky tone he'd greeted her with months earlier.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," she told him timidly with a half smile.

He smiled. "Now you know how I felt on the day we met." He pulled a chair from the other side of the table and sat down next to her—close but not touching. He didn't say anything else. But he couldn't take his eyes off her. How he wanted her. He practically had to sit on his hands to keep himself from kissing her into submission. He knew this was too important to give in to his baser instincts. Instead he simply continued to look at her.

She couldn't look away either. Nevertheless, it took her a few minutes to realize that he had no intention of speaking further, but would wait her out. Finally, she found the courage to speak. Tucking her chin slightly while continuing to meet his gaze, she told him, "I had a long talk with Cooper right before the break—or rather he had a long talk with me…."

He could see she was struggling to find her words. He had two choices: He could make this hard on her, or he could make it easy. But only one of those choices was right. She was here. She'd come to him. And that was all he'd ever required. He didn't want a pound a flesh from her. He wanted her heart. He, too, ducked his head a little, matching her expression. "I know," he told her. "I had breakfast with him Monday morning and he mentioned it. He wouldn't tell me what the two of you discussed. But I think I have a pretty good idea."

"Do you hate me?" She asked holding her breath.

"No," he replied definitively, never losing eye contact with her. "I love you."

Right away she relaxed. However, she couldn't control the unwanted moisture that was now partially clouding her vision.

Sensing her emotions, and recognizing his own, he leaned towards her. She did the same until once again their foreheads connected. For a long time they silently remained like this, the gesture today helping each of them to find strength, comfort, healing and understanding.

When finally they came apart, she said, "Why didn't you tell me what was really going on between you and Mike?"

"I tried," he insisted. "Here in this room—on the afternoon we broke up. You just didn't want to listen."

"But what about before? Why not then?" She questioned gently.

"I've asked myself that at least a thousand times. I guess I didn't want to make a big deal out of it, wanted to handle it myself. I certainly didn't want you caught in the middle. I didn't want you forced to choose between us especially when you had to work closely with him."

Mike had been right. He had been thinking of her—protecting her.

He sighed and paused a moment while deciding what else he should say. The bottom line, however, was if he was going to demand she open up with him, he had to do the same. "And I was initially afraid. You'd known him for two years and me for only a couple of months. Subconsciously I was worried that if you were forced to choose between us, you would choose him."

"Which is exactly how it must have appeared to you these past weeks," she acknowledged, thinking about what she'd learned from his note to her mother. "It wasn't like that, I promise. I would never…."

"It's okay," he assured her. "Deep down I think I knew there was nothing between you that way. And Cooper lit into me on Monday for claiming there ever could be. Well, Cooper rode me hard about a lot of stuff. But it's been killing me to see you with him. I hated having him touch you and comfort you like I wanted to be doing. Caused all kinds of unpleasant things I'm ashamed to admit."

"Is that why every time I saw you there was always at least one beautiful, petite girl falling all over you?"

He shrugged sheepishly, his face turning a little red.

"Including Thursday night," she added mischievously.

"What are you talking about?"

"I spent all afternoon talking with Cooper and then Mike. Afterwards I drove aimlessly around New Haven thinking, before ending up at the condo. I knew that I had to see you. But when I approached the door the only thing I saw was you and a girl on the couch having an intimate food fight. You were laughing and appeared happy. It shattered me. Broke my heart wide open."

"What?" He was stunned. "You came over Thursday night?"

She nodded.

"Mac, why didn't you ring the doorbell? It was a study session. We were blowing off a little stress. Yeah, she was flirting with me and I was playing along," he admitted. "But it meant nothing. We were never alone. Patrick and others were there."

"It's okay." It was her turn to reassure him. "Honestly, it was for the best."

"I don't understand. What are you saying?"

"I didn't realize it then, but there was a lot I hadn't worked through about what happened between us and why. I was able to do that over the break. Thanks to my parents—especially Mom." _And your gift and note_, she thought. She wouldn't bring that up yet. She was saving it for a more appropriate moment.

"I was afraid you'd moved on," she continued. "That it was too late for us. Among other things, they helped me see that it didn't matter—that I needed to see you anyway and try to make things right between us. And if it was too late, that it would be easier to live with the disappointment than with regret."

"Thank you, Kate and Michael," he said raising his hands towards heaven, a big grin on his face. "And Cooper, too."

She shook her head. "No… thank you," she said warmly.

He looked at her inquisitively so she explained, "After leaving your place I was numb. I went back to the law school and worked all night and the next day finishing everything. By the time I got to Bridgeport Friday night I wanted to die. I felt hopeless—like nothing would ever be right again. I hadn't slept in a couple of days—had hardly slept in months. I was devastated because I thought I'd lost you forever."

"Honey, I am so sorry…." He hated to think that he'd caused her such grief and sorrow.

"It's not your fault—that's what I'm trying to tell you," she said warmly with a gentle smile. "Anyway, Mom put me to bed. But before she left my room, she told me that you loved me deeply, that she was certain we belong together and that this was only a bump in the road."

"Kate's a wise woman," he interjected.

"Yes, she is," Mac agreed. "She also told me to think only about the good times—about all the ways you'd demonstrated your love. At first I thought she was nuts. But once I lay down, I tried to do what she suggested… and miraculously it worked. So, thank you," she said softly, laying a caressing hand on his leg.

"It's all true," he told her as he took her hand from his leg and kissed it. "You mean more to me than anything in this world."

"I know," she responded sincerely. "And that made all the difference."

For a few moments neither of them spoke. They basked in the warmth radiating from each other's eyes and their smiles. Eventually Mac broke the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"When we broke up, why didn't you make me listen to you? You do have that power if you choose to exercise it."

"Do I?" he questioned. "I'm not sure anyone has the power to do that once you get a bee in your bonnet."

She removed her hand from his grasp and gave him a petulant glare.

"I'm teasing," he said quickly. He wasn't going to fight with her over stubbornness today. He immediately leaned in and backed up with his words with a soft, provocative kiss, which he had to admit was mostly for him. He couldn't wait any longer. He had to kiss her.

She, too, thoroughly enjoyed it. She'd missed his love and affection so very much.

Afterwards when they were both smiling, she forced her mind back to where it needed to be. "Seriously," she said, "why did you walk away? Why didn't you fight back?"

He could tell by her tone that she understood how important that choice had been. He felt as if their entire relationship depended on his response. "Because," he told her quietly, "love without trust is hollow." He paused to let his words sink in.

"I expected you," he continued, "to be angry. I expected you to be shocked. I knew that you would not initially understand my choice. But do you know what bothers me the most, Mac? It's that you made up your mind so completely without _wanting_ or _waiting_ to hear from me. I couldn't believe that after all we had shared you could think so low of me, and have so little faith in me and in my character."

She nodded and reached out to lovingly stroke his cheek. Her mother was right. This man was indeed strong but also incredibly gentle and surprisingly sensitive. She knew she'd hurt him with her words and attitude, but until now she hadn't recognized how deeply she'd cut him. She was so lucky it hadn't turned his love to hate, and luckier still that he wouldn't hold it against her.

"There's something I want you to understand: Throwing the elbow wasn't about evening old scores. It wasn't about jealousy or competition. Yeah, I wasn't going to take his crap anymore on the court. But mostly my choice was about us, about our relationship, and about what part Mike would play in it—how much control he would have over us. Can you honestly say that his constant negative and derogatory comments had no effect on you?"

"I just ignored him, Rod."

He sighed. "I know you tried—so did I, for a long time. But Mackenzie, his attitude and behavior—at least subconsciously—were impacting our relationship. How you felt about me, and how you responded to me. It was hurting both of us. Your reaction to my elbow is proof of that fact. Think about it," he dared, "then tell me I'm mistaken."

She fought her normal urge to strike back and instead concentrated on his words. While the reasons for her reaction were complex, he _wasn't_ mistaken. Mike's prejudice against him had undoubtedly contributed to her doubts and fears.

"He wasn't going to lay off either one of us until he broke us up or until we put a stop to his antics. I didn't want to put you in the middle. I didn't want to make you choose. But it was time to take a stand. If I'm wrong, then I apologize. However, that's how I see it and that's why I did what I did."

Cooper and her mother had been right about so many things. So had Rod. "You weren't wrong," she said once he'd finished.

"Thank you."

She took a deep breath and asked tentatively, "Where do we go from here?"

"Where do you want us to go?"

"I want you back," she answered without hesitation. "I want things like they were before."

He shook his head. "I can't do that," he told her firmly.

The apparent finality of his words cut her to the quick. "I don't understand. If you love me…." Her emotions again involuntarily began to manifest themselves through her eyes. She tried to look away.

He, however, wouldn't let her. He placed a gentle hand on her chin and forced her to look back in his direction. With his other hand he tenderly brushed away a tear that had managed to escape. "Mackenzie," he said softly. He waited for her to raise her eyes to his. "I do love you. It's because I love you that I don't want things _only_ like they were before. I won't go back. But I will move forward on one condition…."

She looked at him hopefully.

"That we do it together."

After a long pause, he dropped his hand, leaned back in his chair and continued, "But kiddo, for this to work for me, I need to know that you are likewise—symbolically—willing to throw an elbow at anyone or anything that might stand in the way of our being together. Including the demons of the past. I'm willing to walk at your side." He shook his head. "But I'm not willing to be the only one whose heart and soul is exposed."

She knew what he was asking of her. Once and for all, he wanted her to get off the fence emotionally, open herself up to him, and fight for him and their future. Such intimacy would be new to her; and she was scared. Quietly she told him, "I'm not sure I know how to throw an elbow."

He grinned. As usual, he was touched and surprised by the vulnerability he knew she loathed. But he knew how fierce this woman could be once she set her mind on a course of action. If she was ready to join him, their future could be amazing. "So long as you're willing to commit yourself, Ms. Allen, we can work at it together." He was relieved to receive an ear-to-ear smile in return along with a twinkle in her eyes, which lit up the room.

"You drive a hard—but fair—bargain, Mr. Calloway." She reached out her hand to shake on their new agreement.

He took it, but only to pull her close and kiss her long and deep.

When they were both out of breath, he pulled back. However, he continued to hold her hand and she remained firmly on his lap. With humor he told her, "You do realize that you haven't actually apologized to me, nor have you told me how you feel."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him—hard.

"Is that so?" he teased.

She kissed him again.

"Hmm…" he groaned when they finally broke apart, "I like that answer." He nuzzled her throat and asked, "Do you have much class today?"

"Yeah, but…"

"Me, too," he agreed as he raised his head to look at her once more. He reached across the table and pulled a single rose from the vase. Presenting it to her, he said hoarsely, "Let's go home."

"Roderic," she answered suggestively. "I thought you'd never ask."


	38. Leap of Faith

**38. Leap of Faith**

"I didn't think anything could top my first day at the law school. I was wrong," Rod told her as he grabbed his coat and backpack from his school locker. "Do you know why?"

"Why?" Mac responded indulgently.

"Because today… Mohammad came to the mountain."

Mac laughed heartily when the meaning of his words sunk in. She adored this playful and poetic side of him. Of course, she was the one to blame for the mountain thing. Her first instinct, however, had been right. He was a mountain—her mountain. Over and over, he'd come to her—reached out to her and bridged every gap between them. Even this morning he'd made it easy for her.

"Just don't say, 'It's about time,'" she answered dryly.

"Why state the obvious," he joked with a smug smile.

She threw her arms around his neck. "I missed you."

He was momentarily taken back. Mackenzie Allen was not a fan of public displays of affection—particularly at school. He quickly let his coat and backpack fall to the floor, and pulled her against him. "Me, too." He lowered his head and parted her lips in a searing, possessive kiss. "Me, too," he repeated against her skin.

Mac felt weak in the knees, overwhelmed by his sudden, hungry exploration of her mouth. She was continually amazed at how he deeply he affected her with a kiss. She pressed herself closer to him until he was up against the wall of lockers. She couldn't imagine anybody else fitting her quite so perfectly—in every way. Eagerly she responded to his passion.

They completely lost track of time and place until interrupted by one of Rod's classmates trying to get to his locker. "Excuse me, Calloway," he said with a smile. "Don't mean to interrupt, but unfortunately I require my Evidence book."

Rod raised his head. "Sorry, Preston," he replied. He released Mac and scooted his coat and backpack out of the way. Her face was slightly flushed. Whether from embarrassment or desire, he didn't care. It only added to her beauty.

"No problem," he said opening his locker. "Did you understand anything Sanders was saying in Con Law this morning?"

"Not a thing," Rod agreed. He hadn't understood a word because he hadn't heard a word. His mind had been only on her. "Do you know Mackenzie Allen?" he asked bringing her into their conversation.

He smirked. "The whole school knows Mac Allen, mate. But we've never been formally introduced." He stuck out his hand. "John Preston."

Mac shook it warmly. "It's nice to meet you, John. Where in New Zealand are you from?"

"North of Auckland," he answered. "I see you're as brilliant as advertised. Most Yanks insist I'm Australian."

"That will never do," Mac said with a smile while Rod beamed proudly at her side.

"Good to see the two of you have finally come to your senses," John told her. "Now maybe this old boy will pull his head out of his ass."

"What?" Rod protested.

"He's been impossible the past couple of months. And he used to be such a likeable fellow."

"Thanks a lot, mate," Rod said emphatically.

Mac laughed. If she wasn't already head over heels in love with the man at her side, she could easily fall for this blond, blue-eyed Kiwi.

John pulled out his textbook and shut his locker. "I'll take notes for you in class," he told Rod with a nod. "Somehow I don't think you're going to make it today. Do enjoy yourselves."

Rod laughed. "Thanks," he called out to John's departing back. "I owe you one." He looked at Mackenzie and saw that her face was again tinged with pink. Pleased, but not wanting to embarrass her further, he asked, "Do you want to leave your car here or meet me at home?"

"I didn't drive today."

He looked at her inquisitively. "You didn't?"

"I walked."

"In the cold?"

"Uh huh," she said with a nod. Softly she clarified, "I was hoping to have a ride at the end of the day."

He was touched. He placed his hands on either side of her waist and stepped closer to her. "My own little Pollyanna, huh?" he teased.

"Maybe," she answered noncommittally. "But I do need to get my purse and coat from the journal office."

"Okay. Why don't I get the car while you get what you need? I'll drive around and meet you out front?"

"Perfect."

"Yes, we are." He cupped her face in his hands and once again his lips descended on hers.

XXXXXXXXXX

By the time he picked Mackenzie up in front of the law school, he was in a silent panic. The craziest thought kept running through his head. She had to be scared. Frankly, he was a little gun shy, too. He didn't know if he could take another rejection similar to what he'd experienced their last evening together.

For weeks that scene in his bedroom had repeatedly played out in his mind, haunting him. Something in her past was getting in the way. Something traumatic which manifested itself most strongly when they were close to making love. Something that was powerful enough to cause her to recoil physically, to shake and tremble. Could she really be over it? She could achieve anything she put her mind to doing. But if the past wasn't completely behind her yet, how did he help her? How did he give her what she needed? What they both did.

She needed reassurance that this—that they—that he—was different. He'd failed her before. He hated to see her in pain. He couldn't make the same mistake again. There was too much at stake. She had to know he wasn't going anywhere ever again. She had to feel safe and secure in his love. Words wouldn't do it. He was certain of that…. He had to show her. The opening of the car door interrupted his thoughts. He hadn't seen her approach.

"It's freezing," Mac said shivering as she climbed into the car. "And it had been so nice, too." Last week's mild weather had allowed her to clear her head by running every day in Bridgeport while she'd struggled to find the courage to go to him.

"We'll light the fire when we get home," he assured her. "Are you hungry?"

"Famished," she told him while blowing on her hands. She'd accidentally left her gloves on her desk.

"Me, too. But we only have breakfast food. That's the only meal I've been eating there. We could stop at the store, or go and eat someplace?"

"Breakfast sounds wonderful." She couldn't remember the last time she'd actually eaten breakfast. Her mother had repeatedly nagged at her to eat during Christmas vacation and over the weekend, but she'd resisted. Her appetite had been virtually nonexistent since their separation. "You make a tasty omelet and toast."

Stopping at a traffic light he turned to her. "And you slice a mean banana."

"If you're good, I may let you eat it with peanut butter."

"Have I told you today how beautiful you are?"

"Smooth Calloway. Some guys will say anything for a decent meal," she responded with a smile. "But you're not too bad yourself. Even if some of your eating habits are disgusting."

"Just admit it. You love everything about me."

"Starting with your humility."

"That's me. Humble Rod." He returned his attention to the road and accelerated through the intersection.

She laughed. After a moment's silence she commented, "My face is beginning to hurt."

"Huh?"

She waited until their eyes met. "From smiling so much."

"Who knew pain could feel so good," he said wearing an identical grin.

"Who knew, indeed," she agreed.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Honey?" Rod called over to Mackenzie, who was behind him cutting fruit. They'd taken off their coats, turned on the fire and had headed straight for the kitchen where they'd easily fallen back into the routine of working seamlessly together.

"Yeah?" She twisted towards him and smiled. He looked so cute standing in front of the stove. She was thankful there was no awkwardness between them.

"My face hurts, too," he said before turning back to their omelets.

Mac chuckled as she approached him from behind, wrapped her arms around him and began to stroke his taut chest and abdomen. She could feel his muscles contract and loved the feeling of control it gave her. "Want me to kiss it better?" she said against his ear.

He cocked his head to the right until their eyes met. "For the rest of my life."

She stood on her toes and softly settled her lips on his mouth.

"That's just the spot," he whispered.

She kissed him again and then cheerfully demanded, "Hurry up with those eggs, I'm starved."

"Yes, ma'am," he lightly swatted her on the butt as she returned to her assigned task. "By the way, in case you've forgotten, the peanut butter is on the second shelf in the far left cupboard."

"I remember… unfortunately," she answered opening the cupboard. "Want me to stick in the toast?"

"Yeah. The omelets are about ready," he said reaching for a couple of plates.

"I suppose you want peanut butter on your toast, too?"

"Nah," he said bringing the omelets over to her. "Butter or jam will do. Whatever you're having."

"Will you grab the jam?"

"Of course," he walked to the refrigerator. "What kind do you want? Strawberry or blackberry?"

"Either is fine."

He chose the blackberry, opened the jar and handed it to her. While she spread it on their toast, he divided the fruit between their plates—including a sliced banana with peanut butter for him. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

"What?" She asked adding the toast to their plates.

"You and me."

"So very good," she agreed with a sigh. "Like we were never apart. Except for we've got a lot to catch up on."

"Nine and a half weeks worth."

She smiled. "So I'm not the only one who was keeping track, huh?"

He returned her smile. "Where do you want to eat and talk?"

"In front of the fire? You can turn it down if it's too warm for you."

"Perfect. Take the plates. I'll grab the forks and something to drink."

"Okay." She picked up the plates.

"Milk or juice?" He asked, retrieving a couple of forks.

"Milk, if it's chocolate."

"I think I can arrange that…. There's still some chocolate syrup in the fridge."

"You didn't dump it out?"

"I moved it out of sight."

"I did the same with the peanut butter at the apartment," she admitted.

He handed her a fork and gestured towards the living room. "Go eat your eggs before they get cold. I'll be right behind you."

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac took their plates in the other room and sat down on the love seat, setting his plate down next to her. While she waited for him her mind inextricably reviewed the morning. He'd been so understanding—so forgiving. But they had more talking to do. Talking that because of the way they'd separated would at some point lead them to the topic of sex.

She wasn't the same person she'd been nine weeks ago. But she was still nervous. What if something inadvertently sent her over the edge again? Caused her to freeze up? What if she disappointed him? Or he changed his mind and decided she wasn't worth it? _Stop it_, she chastised. _He loves you. He would never hurt you. This is your test_, she said silently repeating her mother's words to her. _Maybe it would be easier if there'd been someone since David. But there wasn't. Move on. It will be fine. You love him. You want him. Do it for him. Do it for yourself. It's not a big deal…. That's a lie. It is a big deal—a very big deal._

She picked up their plates and put them on the hearth to keep the eggs warm. As she turned down the fire she saw a real estate brochure.

"Here you go, chocolate milk," Rod said walking towards her from the kitchen. As he reached the fireplace he saw their plates on the hearth. "You're not eating?" He first handed her a glass and then her plate. He picked up his plate and sat next to her.

"I was waiting for you," she said with a warm look.

He met her gaze. "Hey… that's my line."

"Can't let you have all the fun."

He sighed. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

"Thank you." For a long time when he'd said those words to her, she'd been embarrassed and uncertain as to whether she should believe him. However, she'd come to understand them for what they were: an expression of love and an acknowledgment of whom she was to him. He made her feel beautiful. "Never stop reminding me."

"Every day."

"Eat your eggs."

"You, too."

Both starved, they quickly ate together in silence. Mac ate most of her omelet before giving the rest to him. She had no idea how he ate like he did and remained so lean. When they were finished he picked up their plates and took them into the kitchen. She followed with their glasses.

"Hey," she asked putting the glasses in the dishwasher, "how did your exams go? I know they weren't graded but did you feel good about them?"

"Yeah." He rinsed off their plates and deposited them in the dishwasher. "I'm sure I didn't perform up to your standards. Who could?" She had never received anything other than an "Honors" grade, which put her in extremely elite company. "But I think they went well." He dried his hands, shut the dishwasher and walked her back into the living room. "Of course, I didn't have too many distractions. No excuse not to do well. And I suppose I had something to prove."

Once again seated in front of the fire, she asked, "Prove to whom?"

"You. Stanton. Myself," he admitted. "I needed to prove that I wasn't the guy he claimed I was. Prove that I belonged here."

She reached out and brushed back some of the hair off his forehead. It was currently longer than he normally wore it. "Honey, you've never been that guy. You have nothing to prove to me or anybody else. You're smart and more important, you're wise."

"What I really had is a brilliant tutor for most of the term. I'm going to need her this term, too."

She shook her head. He was worse than she was at taking compliments. "You'll do great."

"If I don't, it won't be for lack of trying. How about you? How did it go?"

"Fine. Even the Dean's exam was pretty easy. Of course, I used studying as an escape. I studied a lot—even for me. Anything to keep myself from thinking about you. But the holidays were miserable."

"Mine, too," he acknowledged with a shake of the head. "My parents basically told me not to come home during the break last week because they were tired of my short temper and bad mood. It didn't help that all I heard over Thanksgiving and Christmas from the twins was that I was an idiot for breaking up with you. Nana, too. She's still your biggest fan."

"No wonder I love your sisters and grandmother."

"Outnumbered again I see," he responded with an exaggerated shake of the head. "I'm doomed."

"It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it," she teased. Her eyes fell again on the real estate magazine in front of them, she reached out and picked it up. "What's this for?"

"To look for a new place. I had decided to move."

"Why?" She looked around the room. "This is a great place. Close to the law school…"

"Because," he shrugged, "it was time to move on. I couldn't do that living here. I moved in the week before we met. Everything here reminds me of you."

"But you hadn't… moved on, I mean?" Mac asked in a sudden panic.

He looked at her intently with an indulgent half-smile. "You're not seriously asking that, are you?"

"No." She relaxed and moved up against him. "I was surprised, that's all. Because I wasn't close to being over you."

"Honey, I wasn't either." He began to massage her neck and shoulder. Softly he told her, "You were still very much under my skin, and in my heart."

She raised her head to look at him. "But you wanted to move on."

"It wasn't a question of 'want,' Mac. I never wanted us to be apart, never wanted things to end between us. It was a question of 'need.' If we weren't going to be together then yeah, I had to move on." Seeing her expression, he asked, "What?"

"I never imagined it would be so easy for you."

"It wasn't. Even thinking about it was pure torture. But what choice did I have? I couldn't be miserable the rest of my life."

"I know. You're much stronger than I am," she conceded with a sigh. She sat up and faced him. "You're sure this is what you want? You and me. Because if not, I don't want you to feel guilty or responsible.…"

He put a finger over her lips. "You're talking about a hypothetical future apart that no longer exists. What makes you think there's anyplace I want to be but here—with you?"

"Nothing. But I know I screwed up. I would understand if you…"

"Stop," he insisted. "None of that matters. All that matters is…" He took a deep breath.

"Yes?"

He looked at her carefully. "Are you committed to us?"

"Whole-heartedly," she said without hesitation.

"I am, too. And that's all that matters," he told her with yet another smile. "What happened between us—the misunderstanding, the miscommunication, and the stupid, stubborn pride—is in the past. Let's leave it there. No regrets. No recriminations."

"Focus only on the present and the future?"

"Exactly."

"Deal," she said scooting back into his arms. After she gladly accepted his kiss to seal this amendment to their agreement, she told him, "See how wise you are?"

"Age before beauty, kiddo. That's all it is."

"No, it's not," she told him soberly. Knowing what he was thinking, she turned to look at him. "I'm serious. It has nothing to do with the two months you have on me, Mister—and you know it." She put one hand against his heart, where she could feel it's steady, symbolic rhythm. "Wisdom is about perspective—the combination of head and heart working together in perfect harmony. It's about being smart and selfless, about having faith and courage. And it's about making the most of life—the good and the bad…. I envy that in you."

Touched by her words yet uncertain about how to respond, he studied her. After a moment he said quietly, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek before whispering, "It's all true. Thank you for loving me." She rested her head on his shoulder and felt his hand slide under her sweatshirt and begin to rub her back. She'd missed him so much—missed his gentle and tender touch, and how cherished she felt when tucked securely in his arms.

He kissed the top of her head. "You should have seen the reaction of all the guys when your accomplice walked onto the court. I swear their jaws dropped all the way to the floor."

"What about yours?" She raised her head.

_Uh oh_!_ Busted._ _Way to go, champ. Way to talk yourself back in the doghouse on the same day you got out of it. Real smart._ "Well…"

"She's a beautiful girl."

He shrugged. "If you like skinny blondes. Personally I prefer tall, brilliant and challenging redheads."

"Good thing, too."

"Where did you find her?"

"She's one of Sue's piano students. And a very nice person."

"You know, I'm never going to live this morning down—particularly the 'Roderic' part. I will be mocked mercilessly."

"The price you pay," she said with a shrug of her own. "They won't dare take it too far. They know how sharp your elbows are."

"Hey," he protested lightly, "I'm a lover, not a fighter."

She laughed. "You're a lover and a fighter. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

He kissed her forehead.

"Besides I figured the occasion warranted something dramatic."

"And you were looking for some cover?" He shifted positions and sprawled his legs across the hearth to make it more comfortable for them.

"Guilty as charged." She put her legs against his on the fireplace and snuggled closer into him. "I was a nervous wreck. Never in my life had I felt more right about something yet more scared."

"Much ado about nothing," he told her with a grin. "All you had to do was open the door and I was yours."

"And admit the sun is the moon, and that midnight is noon, my Petruccio?" she asked with a twinkle in her eye, lifting her head to look in his face.

He laughed and turned his face towards her. "Kiss me, Kate."

She reached up and did just that until they were both out of breath. Then she settled back in his embrace and silently rejoiced when his hand again began to knead her back. She returned the favor by lightly stroking his chest.

They cuddled while watching the low flames dance in the fireplace. For the moment it was enough to be wrapped in each other's arms, secure in the knowledge that they were back where they wanted to be: together.

After some time Rod asked, "You awake?"

"Awake and blissfully content."

"Good."

They lapsed back into a comfortable silence, letting their minds relish much happier thoughts than had been their companions the previous couple of months. Eventually Mac spoke. "Honey?"

"Yeah?" he lazily answered.

She tilted her head and, seeing that his eyes were closed, she got nervous. Maybe it wasn't the right time. "Never mind. It's not important."

Instantly alert, he opened his eyes and looked down at her. "What's not important?"

"Nothing. It can wait. Go back to sleep."

"I wasn't sleeping—just hanging out."

"But you're tired…."

"Mackenzie…."

She heard the familiar hint of warning in his voice and knew the time to talk about the elephant in the room had, in fact, arrived. She sat up and shyly admitted, "I think I'm ready now…. I mean, I know I am."

He scrunched up his face in confusion. "Ready?"

"To make love," she said.

He felt all the air leave his lungs. He'd expected to have this conversation with her. However, he hadn't expected that she would be the one to initiate it.

"Rod, I want you. Want to make love with you."

He was torn. He wanted her with every cell in his body. But in spite of the confidence he heard in her voice, he remained unconvinced that this was the right thing for her. _It's something too important to risk screwing around with_, he thought wryly. He reached out and brushed a few stray hairs back from her face before lightly stroking her cheek. "I can't tell you what it means to hear those words, and to have you come to me. I want to make love with you, too. Want it more than I've ever wanted anything."

"But?" she questioned.

"But I can't…. I mean, I can…. But not right now."

"I don't understand."

With a weak smile, he admitted, "I'm not sure I do either. Hear me out, though."

"Okay?" She didn't know what else to say. This was the last reaction she'd expected.

"I had a lot of time to think the past nine weeks. I was wrong to push you. This isn't a test," he said with a shake of his head. "I was wrong to treat our relationship like other past relationships. It's not. It never could be. It's different—unique and extraordinary. It should be treated that way. I should have seen that all along. I didn't… and I'm sorry."

She put a hand on his thigh. "Honey, you've never pushed. It was me. My problem. I know that…."

"I appreciate that… I do." He sighed. "Do you remember the night before we broke up, we were in the car and you asked if I was angry because you'd stopped our lovemaking?"

She nodded.

"Do you remember what I told you?"

"That it could never be right until it's right for both of us?"

"Exactly." He took both of her hands. "It's not right for me—not now. I don't think it's right for you either—not yet. I've changed. I don't want what I wanted before." He took a deep breath. Never in his wildest dreams last night could he have imagined that he'd be doing this today. Now he could think of nothing else. He saw the confusion in her face. He wanted her to understand—needed her to understand. "The truth is that there's only one person I want to make love with for the rest of my life. And that's my wife."

"Your wife?"

"My wife," he said again with a smile. "Wait right here."

Stunned she watched him walk into his bedroom before the fear and panic set in. _What did he mean? Had his feelings, in fact, changed? Was he trying to let her down easy?_

XXXXXXXXXX

He returned a minute later to find her nervously pacing around the room. He knew what she was thinking and it was the last thing he'd intended. Directly he went to her and without saying a word, pressed her against the length of his body and kissed her with all the love that was in him. It was a kiss meant to drive away every last doubt and fear. When he felt her body literally sigh, he knew he'd got it right.

Gently he released her and led her by the hand to the other sofa. When she was seated, he dropped down onto his knees and pulled a small box out of his pocket. He opened it and, looking into her surprised eyes, said, "Mackenzie Spencer Allen, I love you with everything that I have: Every fiber of my being, every hair on my head—everything. Will you marry me? I want you to be my wife."

Astounded and amused, she watched as he began nervously to fidget with the ring.

"I know this is a shock. I hadn't really planned myself…. I don't expect an answer right now. The last thing I want to do is…"

"Roderic," she breathlessly interrupted. When he raised his head to her, she wanted to laugh. He looked like a little boy who'd been caught with his fingers in the cookie jar. When she had his attention she said, "Yes."

Flummoxed, he sat back on his knees and shut the jewelry box. "Yes, you want to think about it?"

"Yes, I want to marry you."

He heard her words but they didn't quite compute. "It's okay if you want to think about it. Really, it is."

"Come here," she said gesturing up to the sofa. When he was seated next to her, she said. "I don't need time to think about it. I've been thinking about nothing else."

"You have? Really?"

"I have," she assured him with a nod. "Do you know what was the last thing Cooper told me the other day?" she asked rhetorically. "He told me to think about my future and what I want from it. And about what I was giving up if I let things stay like they were between us. What I want is, us. You told me right here in this room that you were convinced that we could be happier together than we ever could be apart. After nine weeks without you, I know you're right. I hated every day—every hour—every minute—we were apart. I don't want to live without you by my side… ever again. So yes, Roderic Gabriel Calloway, I will marry you. I will play the game of life with you, seek that promise of joy with you."

Elated he threw his arms around her and hugged her tight before attaching his forehead to hers. When he released her, he was relieved to find that she, too, had a few tears in her eyes. Otherwise he would never live it down with their children and grandchildren, that he was the only one to get emotional when they decided to marry. Again he opened the little box and this time, he removed the ring with sure hands.

She held her breath as he took her left hand and slid it on the appropriate finger.

He, on the other hand, held his breath hoping it would fit. When it did, he silently thanked Sue for her accurate sizing information.

"It's beautiful," she told him staring at the wide, antique gold band with a brilliant solitaire diamond that was far too big.

"Do you honestly like it? Because if you don't, we can get something else."

"I love it," she told him with a kiss. "I can't believe you had this is in your room. I didn't mean for you to take the message on my sweatshirt quite so literally. I'm glad you did. But how did you know?"

"Kiddo, the message on the sweatshirt was for your benefit—not mine. I've had the ring since our first week together," he informed her. "I went to see Nana that weekend. Told her that I'd met the woman I intended to marry. She gave me the ring. She'd set it aside particularly for this purpose when I was a boy. My grandfather gave it to her on their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary."

"Rod, I can't take…. It belongs to her."

"She wants you to have it," he told her confidently. "She's always wanted me to have the kind of marriage she and my grandfather had. The kind of marriage my parents, and yours, have. And with you, she's confident I'll have that. Next to us, I don't think there will be anyone more excited about our decision."

"I don't know," Mac responded with a smile. "I think my parents may give her some competition. My father not only likes you, he respects you. And my mother…. Well, my mother is convinced you walk on water."

"Do you know what I think?" he asked mischievously. "I think we just found the name for our first daughter: Rebecca Katherine or Katherine Rebecca."

She eyed him skeptically and he added, "When the right time eventually comes."

"I love it. Either combination." Again she looked down at her left hand. She couldn't seem to stop gazing at her new accessory.

Seeing her enthusiastically study the ring brought a smile to his face. He put his arm around her and she instantly snuggled against him. While she stared at her hand, he looked at her.

Eventually she turned her attention to him and was struck by the love and desire she saw in his eyes. She owed him so much. "Are you sure you're okay with us waiting? It's not like either one of us is a virgin."

"I'm sure. It just feels like the right thing to do."

"I think so, too…. You don't want a long engagement, do you?"

He chuckled. "Mackenzie, if it were up to me, we would get married today."

"Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Let's get married today." Seeing his blank stare, she added, "I'm serious. Let's get married today. Why wait?"

"Don't you want a big wedding with a dozen bridesmaids and a fancy dress, surrounded by hundreds of our friends, our parents' friends and obscure relatives we haven't seen in twenty years?"

"No," she shook her head. "Total waste of time and money. All I need is you. We'll be just like Rebecca and Gabriel."

He studied her close. "Honey, are you sure this is what you want? I mean, I guess we could have a big wedding later. I just want you to be happy. I want you to have the wedding you've always dreamed about."

"That's just it," she explained. "I've never cared about the big wedding or all the stuff that goes with it. The only thing I've ever wanted is the handsome prince and the happily ever after. I have that… and he's more than I ever dreamed."

"And he loves you to distraction."

"Rod, I know it's a leap of faith. I get that now. We can wait: three months, six months… a year. But it won't change the faith and commitment required for us to make a good marriage—a strong marriage. It won't make the future any more certain. I want to take this step with you—only with you. I don't want to wait. Do you?"

"No. Absolutely not," he agreed, though the reality of it was still sinking in. "I have no idea what's required for a license. But let's do it." He looked at his watch. It was two o'clock. He stood and reached out a hand to her. "We'd better hurry, though."

"I'll call the clerks office and see what I can find out," she said walking towards the kitchen.

"Good idea," he called after her. "And if we can't do it here, we can always fly to Vegas."

"I'd rather do it here," she said coming back in the room phone book in hand.

"Me, too."

Suddenly another thought came to her. "Um… maybe you'd better talk to my Dad. He's kind of big on that kind of thing."

"I already did."

"How? When?"

"The night of his birthday party when he took me into his study. He gave me his blessing, by the way."

She was astonished. "So that's why my parents were certain you still loved me and adamant it wasn't over between us." She put down the phone book and went to him. Putting her arms around his neck she told him, "You really have been patiently waiting for me, haven't you? You've known all along and have already made that leap of faith."

Enclosing his arms around her waist, he smiled down at her. "Kiss me, Kate."

And she did.


	39. Ready and Willing

**39. Ready and Willing**

"How's it coming?" Sue asked from the bedroom doorway. "Did you get it memorized?"

"I think so," Mac replied. "Provided I don't have a brain freeze."

"You?" Sue questioned. "Never. He's going to love it."

"I think so, too. Knowing him, he'll have something. I don't want to be unprepared."

"It's such a fun game. How about the rest of it? You ready to go?"

Mac glanced at the clock. "Frankly, I don't know. He'll be here in thirty minutes. I'm packed. My makeup's done. But I have no idea what to wear, or how to do my hair: up or down. What do you think?"

"What was your initial thought?"

"To wear it down. He loves it that way."

"He loves you anyway and everyway."

"Yeah, he does. I can't believe how lucky I am."

"He's the lucky one and fortunately for you, he knows it," Sue told her. "I can't believe you're getting married tonight. Carl is completely jealous. He'd love nothing more than to elope."

"Poor baby," Mac teased.

"Poor me having to listen to him," Sue protested with a smile. "So... are you getting nervous yet?"

She'd been shocked at how calm Mac had been while they shopped for a dress, and other necessities after she and Rod had obtained the license and wedding bands. However, nothing compared to the shock she'd felt when Rod had called this afternoon and asked her to meet them at one of the local malls, or when she'd learned of their plans upon her arrival. Mac had been surprised but pleased to see her. He'd thought Mac would have more fun shopping with a friend. Before he'd left, he handed her an envelope with firm instructions that Mac wasn't to pay for a thing. She'd carried out his instructions except for a one little item she'd allowed the bride to purchase for her groom. She and Mac had struck gold when it came to their future husbands. Kim, too, with Cooper. Men didn't come any better than the three of them.

"Surprisingly, no," Mac answered. "It feels right."

"Mac, the two of you are right."

"I keep wondering what he has planned. He knows I hate surprises and the suspense is killing me."

"What did he tell you?" Sue asked.

"That he'd be here at 7:50 p.m. sharp. That I should have a bag packed and look nice—wearing something other than my wedding dress. And that he'd take care of everything else. I don't know where we're getting married, or where we're going afterwards—not that it matters."

Sue laughed softly. "Well, I'm sure it will be incredible and worth any pain and suffering," she joked. "That's what I keep telling Carl, anyway, about our wedding."

Mac smiled. "You're all dressed up. Where are you and Carl going?"

"Out on the town somewhere—to a party I think," Sue said nonchalantly.

"Must be some party."

Sue shrugged. "I don't know. Carl said he was in the mood for something special. Who am I to argue? You know I love to be spoiled."

"Don't we all."

"So tell me, exactly how rich is he? I mean, he never says much. It's obvious though that he has to be pretty well off. But that stack of bills he handed me today… that goes way beyond well off, and so does that rock your wearing."

Again Mac gazed down at her left hand. All afternoon she'd found herself looking down. She couldn't stop staring at it. "Well, the ring belonged to his grandmother. It was an anniversary gift from his grandfather. It's beautiful, isn't it?" She shook her head in disbelief. "I don't know how she can stand to part with it. But he says that she's always wanted him to give it to his future wife as an engagement ring."

"Very nice. Doesn't answer my question though. Come on? Tell me everything. How rich is he? Is it a family thing?"

"All right," Mac confessed. "He inherited money from his grandfather but has invested it and done extremely well," Mac answered. "I had no idea of the extent of it until right before we broke up. Doesn't matter though."

"I know. But it doesn't hurt either," Sue suggested.

"I suppose. It's a little intimidating. I guess you're right about it making things easier. Not that you and Carl are going to be struggling newlyweds by any means."

"That's true," Sue conceded.

"Thank him for me, will you?" Mac told her. "I haven't talked with him since before you went to Michigan. I'm sure he had something to do with Cooper hunting me down."

"Thank him yourself," Sue suggested. "He's waiting for you in the other room."

"He is?"

Sue nodded. "Entertain him for a few minutes. I'm not quite ready yet."

"Sure," Mac eagerly responded as she left her room.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac walked into the living room and found Carl standing in the kitchen wearing a suit and tie. "Wow," she exclaimed, "don't you clean up good." Except for job interviews or school competitions, law students were typically a jeans and tee-shirt crowd.

He smiled and gave her a big hug. Releasing her he observed, "And you are a little underdressed, don't you think?"

She shrugged. "I'm a work in progress."

"You look disgustingly happy, kid."

"Thanks in part to you. You were, after all, a contributing member to the 'Mackenzie Allen finds enlightenment' campaign, weren't you?"

Carl silently chuckled at her self-deprecating but true description. Soberly he told her, "Cooper's the one you need to thank—not me. He's the only one who had the knowledge to intervene, and the ability to remain friends with all of you afterwards—regardless of what happened."

Mac nodded. She knew the critical role their friend had played in their reconciliation. In many respects, they owed their future to him.

"So when exactly did the two of you kiss and makeup?"

"Today."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Let's see, marry tonight when you weren't speaking this morning. That's ambitious even for you, don't you think?"

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

"No," he assured her. "I think it's about time. He's perfect for you, Mac. You belong together. He'll make you happy. You'll make each other happy. I think it's the best thing for you. Even more, I'm happy to have my old friend back—the one I knew before Jerusalem."

"I'm glad she's back, too," she acknowledged. "I didn't realize until the past few days how deeply I was being affected by what happened there. Now, I feel free. I can't wait to be with him."

"Do I hear a 'but' in there somewhere?" he inquired with a tilt of his head.

She sighed. "Not about our marriage. No more doubts there. I do wonder about doing it without our families, though. A big part of me wants them there. And I worry about them feeling hurt."

Carl grinned. "Personally, after all the hassle Sue and I are going through with our families over wedding details, I'm envious."

"You'll survive. It's not too far off and it's what Sue wants."

"I know," he acknowledged. "But I get a lot of mileage out of her believing I'm making a huge sacrifice."

Mac laughed.

"Kid, you better get changed. You don't want to keep him waiting—not tonight."

"That's for sure."

Carl put a hand on each of her shoulders. Kissing her on the cheek he said tenderly, "Congratulations. You've made a wise choice."

"Thanks," she answered with a warm smile of friendship. "Where are you two going tonight?"

He shrugged. "Someplace memorable, I hope. Felt like dressing up and doing something nice—something unusual and different." He looked at his watch. "Speaking of which, we're going to be late if Sue doesn't hurry. You, too. So go get my fiancée and get yourself dressed."

"I'm going," Mac said leaving the room. Before she left completely, however, she turned around. "Carl?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

XXXXXXXXXX

Twenty minutes later Mac opened the door. "Hi," she said warmly.

As Rod entered the apartment all he could do was stare. She was wearing a deep royal blue suit with matching heels accented by the diamond and pearl necklace he'd had made for her. "You are stunning," he said finally.

"Thank you," she said. She could see the obvious desire in his eyes and her own need grew. "You look amazing, too." He had on a navy wool three-button suit with narrow pinstripes, a white shirt with a red and white striped tie; and he'd cut his hair. "New suit?"

"Especially for you," he answered with a kiss on the cheek. He knew better than to mess up her makeup.

She grabbed a hold of his lapels and whispered cheek to cheek, "I love you in blue."

"I love you in anything. Are you ready?"

"Ready and waiting." She kissed him on the mouth.

"Good." He kissed her back. "We better get going. Where's your stuff and what about a coat? It's even colder tonight."

"Everything's on my bed."

He helped her into her coat and with her bags and dress. As she locked the door, it dawned on her that in many ways she was leaving the apartment for the last time.

When they got to the car, he immediately started the engine and turned on the heat before putting down her bags and opening the trunk. He temporarily removed his garment bag from the trunk. "Will you hold this for a minute?"

She took the bag. "Your tux?"

"Yes, ma'am. Light blue with ruffles exactly like you requested. Had to call five shops to find it."

She laughed. While she may have had to worry about more than a few men of her acquaintance showing up dressed like that, her fastidious husband-to-be would never be caught dead wearing such an atrocious costume. He would be dressed in an expensive yet understated suit that fit like it was made only for him. She couldn't wait to see him in it—hot, sexy and totally hers.

He put her bags in the trunk next to his own small bag and then gently lay their wedding clothes across the top. He also took off his suit coat and added it to the pile. She liked the temperature much warmer than he did.

"Are you going to tell me what you have planned?" she asked as he helped her into the car.

"A wedding," he said with a smirk.

"No kidding?"

"Yeah, I met this incredible woman and we're getting married."

"She's a lucky lady."

"Yes, she is," he teased with a warm wink before shutting the door.

As he joined her, she touched the base of her throat. Once he was seated, but before he could take the car out of neutral, she told him, "Thank you for my necklace."

"What necklace?" he asked innocently.

"My Christmas present."

"Oh, that," he said. "That was supposed to be a secret. It was designed and created just for you. I couldn't just get rid of it--although I was tempted. I'm glad you like it."

"Like it?" she questioned. "I love it. I've never received anything like it—anything that made me feel so special. Well, except for my new ring." Momentarily she looked at her left hand before returning her eyes to him. "Don't be upset with Mom. She kept quiet. I didn't know it was from you until this weekend. I can't tell you what it meant to learn that it was from you. Truthfully, it and your note were ultimately what gave me the courage to reach out."

"Then I'm extremely grateful to your mother." He picked up her hand and kissed it.

"Rod?"

Hearing almost a pleading quality in her voice, he looked closely at her; grateful they were parked in close proximity to a street lamp whose light filtered into the car. "Yeah?"

"Are we doing the right thing?"

He expected her to be nervous. His nerves were silently voicing a few opinions of their own. However, he was mostly excited. He hoped she wasn't now experiencing serious doubts. "In getting married?" he asked hesitantly.

"In doing it without our families."

He found his breath. "Is that what you want?" he replied with a tender, indulgent look.

She looked at him shyly and asked tentatively, "Would you be angry if I said, 'Yes?'"

"No," he said with a gentle shake of his head. "Of course, not."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Are you thinking you want a big wedding now? Because if you do, it's okay."

"No." She put a hand on his thigh. "Honestly I don't care about that—not at all. I don't want to wait long either." She paused and with a little shrug added, "I just think they should be there with us."

"I do, too," he agreed with a knowing smile. "Let's drive to Bridgeport and Greenwich and tell them the good news."

"Perfect," she answered with a thankful sigh. "I'm sorry if you're disappointed."

"Honey, it's fine." He tucked some hair behind her ear and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. "We've had a busy day. You look tired. Why don't you close your eyes and relax until we get there?"

"You've had a long day, too."

"But I'm a boy and I'm tough."

Mac laughed. In the future, she could imagine hearing those exact words from a little son, who possessed an identical pair of animated grey-green eyes. It also occurred to her that laughter truly was a balm to the soul. She'd laughed more in the last nine hours than she had in the previous nine weeks.

"Besides, I thought I'd save you for the drive home when we're really tired."

"Not only wise but devious, too. A definite politician in the making," she commented with an involuntary yawn. She was a little sleepy. It hadn't hit her until she'd sat down.

"Just a man who knows what he wants. And what he wants is a rested fiancée when we get there." He would need to speed in order to get them to their destination on time. But he was inordinately thankful that they'd been having similar thoughts about their wedding.

"Okay." Usually she resented being handled, but not from him—not anymore. She loved how protective and solicitous he was with her. "Thank you," she told him with another yawn as she shifted into a more comfortable position while he put the car in gear.

XXXXXXXXXX

Mac awakened when he stopped the car and turned off the engine.

"Feel rested?" Rod asked running a hand along her leg.

"Yeah," she said with a sigh while releasing her seat belt. "Nothing like a power nap. Where are we?"

"Bridgeport."

She looked around. "At the church?"

He smiled. "What would you say to getting married tonight if our families were part of it?"

"I'd say you were an incorrigible tease," she responded with a shake of her head. "Without question, a future politician."

"Is that a 'Yes?'"

"Yes, Roderic," she answered with a smile. "Yes."

"That's a relief. Our mothers would kill me if you turned me down after all I put them through this afternoon."

"I don't think so, honey. I'm the one they'd sentence to a tortuous and painful death. You're the knight in shining armor."

"I love you."

"You better." Her lack of a corresponding admission was a game between them now. The chase was over. They both knew it. But she couldn't throw in the towel of surrender yet. She was saving it for the perfect moment.

"Ready to become husband and wife, Mackenzie?"

She smiled. "Ready and willing."


	40. Ladies and Gentleman, May I Present

**40. Ladies and Gentleman, May I Present….**

When they walked into the church holding hands everyone was waiting to greet them—including Carl and Sue along with Kim and Cooper, who quickly began to use the camera which hung around his neck. Mac was overwhelmed. She had never experienced anything like the universal love and acceptance she saw in each of their faces.

Watching her face as she encountered their families and closest friends, Rod knew he'd made the right choice. She deserved this—they both did. "Sorry, we're late," he said with a grin while giving her hand a little squeeze.

"Better late than never," Will said as he walked over to them. He gave his boy a big hug and then turned his attention to Mackenzie. "Welcome to the family," he said kissing her on the cheek.

"Thank you," she replied. "I can't imagine a better family to join."

This same scene played out several times with Elizabeth, Kate and Michael. The twins could hardly contain their excitement. Even young Christopher got in on the congratulatory spirit. Of course, he was mostly happy that his brother would be in a better mood from now on, and that he and the twins had been told that they could skip school in the morning.

As Cooper, Kim, Carl and Sue approached them Mac said, "A night on the town, huh? Or was it a party?"

"Isn't this a party?" Sue asked looking around.

"I told you we were going someplace memorable, and kid, this is as memorable as it gets," Carl pointed out as he embraced her.

"I'm glad you're here," she said warmly, "and that my fiancée doesn't comprehend the meaning of the word 'elope.'"

Rod shrugged nonchalantly while the rest of them laughed.

Mac turned to Cooper. "You were right… about everything."

"Somebody had to step in," he said with a brotherly smile. "Because the two of you are too pigheaded to know what was good for you, and too blind to see what was right in front of your faces."

More laughter followed.

"I'm sure you'll come up with some way to show the magnitude of your gratitude," he teased. "Congratulations…. It's about time!" In turn he hugged both of them.

Kim, too, offered her best wishes before the four friends gave way to the Calloway matriarch, who intentionally was the last to greet them. She took each of them by the hand and, with a twinkle in her eyes, said, "Glad the two of you finally got it right."

They looked at each other and laughed.

Rebecca then picked up Mac's left hand. "It's as if it was made for you."

"Thank you," Mac said warmly, again glancing at her ring. "I'll treasure it forever."

With tears in her eyes, Rebecca added, "You know, this is the wedding Gabriel and I wanted to have but circumstances prevented. I'm grateful to experience it now with my grandson—his namesake. May you be as happy together as we were, and may the Lord bless you with three times the number of years together that we were given."

Both of them, too, had to wipe away a few tears from their eyes.

Rod embraced his grandmother warmly. "Thank you, Nana."

She put her hands on the sides of his face. "I love you and I'm proud of you, my boy."

"I love you, too."

"Now let's get the two of you married," she said loudly.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Well, what do you think?" Mac said coming out of the smaller dressing room with Sue into the larger one where all the women were gathered.

While the others responded immediately with various superlatives, all Kate could do was stare at her only child. She was a vision. Her white, mermaid style gown fit flawlessly in all the right places, and the shimmering beading along the bust of the empire waist was a perfect accent for the natural highlights in her auburn hair. Finally she found her voice. "Mackenzie, you are beautiful."

"Thanks, Mom," Mac said, her own voice filled with emotion. "What about my hair though? I was going to wear it down but…"

"You have to wear it up," Alexandra and Sydney enthusiastically interjected at the same time. They couldn't believe it when they'd returned home from school this afternoon and were informed by their big brother that not only was he back together with Mackenzie, but they were getting married today. They'd screamed and squealed as only teenage girls can when met with such an amazing surprise.

Everyone laughed at their exuberance and readily agreed with their suggestion.

"Syd's the best at hair and makeup," Alex added, leading Mac to the vanity area. "She brought all her stuff… if you want."

"I'd love it," Mac replied. She was crazy about both Calloway daughters. However, she, like Rod, felt a special affinity for Sydney. "By the way," she added with a genuine smile aimed at Sydney as she sat down, "I had on my sweatshirt when your brother and I talked earlier today. Obviously it worked."

Alex laughed while Syd smiled shyly.

"What sweatshirt?" Elizabeth and Kate asked simultaneously walking towards them.

"Syd made a sweatshirt for Mac," Alex answered, "with 'Real Men Marry Lawyers' written in big letters across the front. Rod gave it to her months ago after a fight. He told her to wear it to school the next day if she accepted his apology. Only she couldn't find him and got stuck wearing it all day. Totally embarrassing if you ask me."

"It definitely got people's attention," Mac commented as Syd began to work on her hair. She glanced at their mothers. "So how shocked were you when he told you this afternoon? And how did he do it?"

"Well," Elizabeth said, "he called and asked that I meet him here. I can only assume he did the same with Kate and Rebecca. I think he'd already spoken with Pastor Stewart and his father."

"And Michael," Kate added.

"As you can imagine, I was pleasantly shocked," Elizabeth continued. "Speechless, in fact… and overjoyed to see him happy again. You truly are his happiness. We are thrilled to have you join our family."

"Thank you, Elizabeth," she responded thickly. She looked towards her mother. "You weren't surprised, were you Mom?"

Kate shook her head. "But then I had an advantage. I knew you were going to see him this morning. I didn't think it would take long for the two of you to figure it all out. And when your father came into the kitchen this afternoon wearing a big smile and indicated that Rod wanted to speak with me, I knew something major was happening."

"I was ecstatic… and stunned," Rebecca piped in. "Of course, my shock was completely overshadowed by my grandson's panic."

It was Mac's turn to be amazed. "He was panicked?" she said in disbelief, staring at them through the mirror. "About getting married?"

Elizabeth laughed. "No… he was panicked about _planning_ the wedding. I think that, more than anything, is why he called us."

"Let's face it," Rebecca said. "When it comes to occasions like this, men are clueless. Of course, young lady, we would have grounded you both for life if you'd actually gone ahead and married without us."

Everyone laughed before Kate told her daughter, "You should have seen him. He was adorable—hyper and thoughtful. Even on such short notice, he wanted everything to be perfect for you—for your wedding to be wonderful and memorable."

Mac sighed heavily before remembering her surprise for him. "Sue," she asked her roommate, "there's that gift we picked up at the mall in my bag. Will you get it and take it to him?"

"Sure," she said. "If it's okay, I'll go warm up on the organ afterwards."

"You're playing for us tonight?" Mac said. Between Rod and the women in their families, they'd thought of everything.

"Thrilled to be asked," Sue told her.

"Thanks." As Sue turned to leave, Mac remembered something else. "Sue?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you ask Pastor Stewart if I can see him for a minute before we start? You know why."

Sue nodded with a smile. Rod was going to love this particular part of the ceremony.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Compared to the two of you, I definitely feel underdressed," Will commented to Michael, who had changed into his white dress uniform, and to his oldest son, who was now wearing his new tuxedo minus its black jacket.

"Compared to the Admiral," Rod joked, "we're all slobs." He turned to Michael. "I'm glad I didn't realize exactly how many stars and bars you own or I might have chickened out. As it is, I'm still afraid that I'm about to be given 40 lashes or ordered into the brig."

"You may yet get that treatment if you don't take care of my daughter—at least as much as she'll allow," Michael responded with a dry smile. In truth, he wanted to laugh. Rod had never been the least bit intimidated by him, which wasn't surprising given his own service record.

"Honestly," he said, "I must admit to having some mixed feelings about this day. It's painful to come face to face with the harsh reality that you no longer occupy the center spot in your little girl's heart," he said with a deep sigh. "At the same time, I'm relieved that I won't have to worry about her while I'm at sea the next several months. And, of course, I'm thrilled that I won't have to pay for a huge wedding."

The Calloway men laughed at his last comment. However, Will, like only the father of a daughter can, understood how Michael felt. He was already dreading the time when he would be in the same situation with the twins. Somehow it was different with a son—more like an accomplishment, a rites of passage.

"I thought you'd appreciate that," Rod answered first putting his hands in his pockets and then immediately pulling them out. "And after witnessing what Carl's going through with their wedding plans, I'm plenty relieved myself that your daughter didn't want something big."

"Son, you seem nervous," Will said with a knowing smile. He'd noticed Rod was currently incapable of standing still.

"I guess I am," Rod acknowledged before thinking better of making such an admission in front of his soon-to-be father-in-law. "Not about our marriage or relationship, of course. I mean I don't have any doubts there." He paused. "I don't know what it is. Probably just…. I don't know. Sweaty palms?"

Michael and Will looked at each other and chuckled. They knew exactly what he was feeling.

"Don't worry, Son," Michael told him. He already considered Rod family. "We've been where you're at now. Frankly, we'd be worried if you weren't feeling anxious."

"This is a big step—a new role and a responsibility like nothing you've ever had, or ever will have. You're ready for it. It's a good match. You love each other, and you know what it takes to make a strong marriage. You'll have hard times. But you'll have an advantage that most young couples don't have. Because together you will approach those challenges with the perspective of how miserable you were apart these past couple of months."

"That's right," Michael added. "Remember what that felt like."

Rod took a deep breath and nodded, still trying to calm himself.

"But I'm not worried," Michael continued. "I couldn't ask for a better man for my daughter. You are exactly what she needs—the half that makes her whole."

"And she is the same for you," Will told him. "That has become patently obvious to us all."

"Yeah," Rod acknowledged with a smile. She fit him perfectly—in every way.

"Feel better?" Will asked.

He nodded, thankful once again for the two remarkable men who raised them, and glad that they'd included their families in this momentous occasion.

Further conversation was interrupted by a knock on the door. Michael opened it to be greeted by Sue.

"How's the groom?" she asked. "About to come unglued?"

"He's holding it together by a thread or two," Michael answered for him.

"Maybe this will help." Sue handed the gift box to Rod.

"Thanks," he said looking at it. "What is it?"

"A gift from the bride," she answered. "I think you'll like it."

"Can I open it?"

Sue quickly gave Michael and Will a "he really is about to lose it" look while they simply smiled in understanding. "I think that's the point of it," she told him gently.

"Oh… right," he answered with a sheepish look. He quickly tore off the wrapping, opened the box and the smaller jewelry box. Inside he found a pair of oval sterling silver cufflinks with a raised rope boarder. They were engraved with _"M+R"_ in large script with a smaller _"2-1-1995"_ centered below. He felt himself calm as a big grin appeared on his face.

"What is it?" Will inquired, having noticed the immediate change in his son's demeanor.

Rod showed them to him and Michael and quickly took off the almost generic links he had been wearing. At least, he tried to take them off.

"Need some help?" Will asked.

"Thanks, Dad." He held out his arms as his father finished the task of removing and replacing his cufflinks.

Afterwards he turned to Sue. "Speaking of gifts, did Cooper get that thing to my mother? Has she opened them yet?" he asked excitedly.

"He did… and not yet," she calmly replied. "They're saving her surprises until she's all ready to go."

"Is she about ready?" Michael asked.

"Should be," she informed the three men. "I'm going to practice a little on the organ in the mean time."

Rod sighed. "Thanks for your help today. We couldn't have done it without you guys."

"You're welcome," Sue said as she left the dressing room.

XXXXXXXXXX

Syd stepped back from the vanity. "Well, what do you think?"

"I love it. It's amazing. I feel like a model," Mac told her. Sydney had managed to take her long and fairly straight auburn hair and transform it into a sophisticated up do with a few strategically placed curled strands framing her face. Her makeup was done in soft tones and yet the overall effect was quite dramatic. Even at seventeen her young sister-in-law was an artist.

"Stunning," Kate added. "You have real talent young lady."

Syd shrugged.

Elizabeth reached up and put an arm around her daughter. "You do," she agreed. "Real talent."

"Thanks," Syd responded. "Can we give Mackenzie her surprises now?"

"What surprises?" Mac asked turning around slightly while remaining seated.

"Well," Elizabeth responded, "you can't get married without keeping a few traditions."

"It would be bad luck," Kate told her with a smile.

"We definitely can't have that," Mac agreed dryly. "What traditions?" she asked with only a hint of skepticism.

"You know," Alex told her. "Something old, something new…."

"Something borrowed and something blue?" Mac finished.

"Exactly," Rebecca said. "Now you're already wearing the 'old' from the Calloway family which is a symbol of continuity."

Again Mac looked down at her left hand and the sparkling diamond that seemingly stared up at her. "And it's perfect. Thank you again, Rebecca. I can't tell you what it means to me that you would share it with me."

"Just be happy," the older woman told her. "And love my grandson like he deserves to be loved."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I have the 'borrowed,'" Kate said handing her daughter a gift box, "which symbolizes the sharing of happiness. In this case, from one generation to the next."

Mac opened it and found the antique gold watch her father had given her mother on their wedding day. Gently she slipped it on her wrist. It was a little tighter on her than her mother due to the differences in their height and build. However, it remained a wonderful compliment to her engagement ring and her dress. "Thank you, Mom," she said softly.

"I've always hoped you would wear it on your special day," Kate replied. "Now, the 'new' and the 'blue' are from Rod."

"Rod?" Mac repeated. "But how would he know anything…."

"He didn't," Elizabeth said with a chuckle. "But he heard us talking and immediately wanted to know what it all meant. When we told him, he insisted that we leave the 'new' and 'blue' to him." She handed Mac a small jewelry box. "This is the 'new.'"

She opened the lid and discovered a pair of earrings, each containing one luminous large pearl surrounded by diamonds and set in a beautiful and delicately crafted drop design with yellow gold and more diamonds. She was stunned and touched beyond words. With trembling hands she removed the gold earrings from her ears and inserted the ones from her husband-to-be.

"They are a perfect match for your necklace," Elizabeth commented in disbelief. "How did he know?"

Mac reached up and touched it. "He was the one who had it made. Isn't it incredible? He gave it to me for Christmas."

"For Christmas?" Rebecca asked dumbfounded. "But you weren't…."

"I know," Mac replied. "He sent it to my mother with a note and asked that she pretend it was from her and my father. I didn't know anything about it until last weekend. Without it, I'm not sure I'd have had the courage to approach him this morning. I thought he'd moved on."

"Not even close," Elizabeth assured her.

"I know…." Almost to her dismay, she was beginning to get overly emotional and the wedding hadn't even begun.

Next Kim approached. "Now the 'blue' is actually two presents, symbols of fidelity, fortune and love. One is to wear now, and one…. Well, I'm not sure what the other one means. Rod had Cooper pick it up this afternoon. I only know he said you would understand. This is that one," Kim told her as she handed her a rather large wrapped box.

Mac was most curious about this one. Hastily she ripped off the paper and opened the box. She pulled back the surrounding tissue paper and pulled out a white "Yale" baseball jersey trimmed in navy blue.

"Turn it over," Kim suggested.

Mac did as instructed and discovered that "Calloway" was stitched across the shoulders with a big number "2" appearing below the name. As expected she immediately grasped its meaning. From this night forward they would play the game of life together—forever on the same team.

When Elizabeth saw what it was she smiled. "Count on my son to turn even an age old wedding tradition into something having to do with baseball."

"Well," Kate told her, "between the expression on my daughter's face and our presence here tonight, I think it's safe to assume that Mighty Casey has hit a home run this time."

"And that there is plenty of joy in Mudville," Rebecca laughingly added.

Alex, on the other hand, rolled her eyes while the others smiled.

Sydney handed Mackenzie a long jewelry box. She and Alex had accompanied Rod to pick out his suit and tuxedo along with the earrings and this other item. "This is the real 'blue,'" she told her.

Mac opened the lid and was met with a piece that literally took her breath away. It was a bracelet consisting of large emerald cut sapphires set in platinum separated by columns of smaller brilliant cut diamonds set in yellow gold. She couldn't find the words to describe it so she simply held it up for the others to see.

"It's exquisite," Kate told her. "Let me help you with it."

Still speechless, Mac handed it to her mother and held out her right arm. Once it was clasped onto her wrist, Kate kissed her on the cheek and asked, "Are you ready?"

Mac nodded as there was a knock on the door, followed immediately by Admiral Michael James Allen's entrance. "I heard that someone was needed to give away a bride this evening."

"Just in time, Daddy," Mac told him with a smile as she stood to greet him.

He, too, was rendered speechless by her appearance, and found himself on the verge of his emotions getting the better of him. All he could manage to say was, "Baby, you are gorgeous."

She kissed him on the cheek. "Thanks, Daddy. You look very stately yourself."

"You mean handsome, strong and tough?" he teased.

"Precisely that," she replied in a dry tone.

"We'll give the three of you a few minutes together," Elizabeth said walking towards the door and gesturing for the others to follow. "Besides, I, too, would like a few minutes with my husband and our son."

XXXXXXXXXX

Ten minutes later her son stood at the front of the church breathing deeply and thinking through what he planned to say when the appropriate time came. He was oblivious to his surroundings until the opening strains of the Wedding March began to play. In an instant he turned around just in time to see Mackenzie, carrying a bouquet of red roses, and her father, begin their journey down the center aisle towards him. His heart turned over. He had no idea whatsoever how to describe what she was wearing. He only knew that whatever it was, it was a perfect fit—highlighting each and every luscious curve which he longed to explore for the rest of his life with far more than a mere look. When he was able to force his eyes up to her face, his heart flipped again at the warmth he saw in her eyes, and in the way her smile lit up the room. This was his woman—very soon to be his wife; and so far as he was concerned, that made him the luckiest man on earth.

Mac, meanwhile, had also been watching him closely. She saw him turn around and then thrilled as he leisurely inspected her with those soulful grey-green eyes. She knew in an instant exactly what he was feeling—what he was wanting. She physically felt and wanted the same. She, too, took a minute to appraise him. In every way he was a beautiful man. The fit of his black three-button, non-vented tuxedo with white wing collared shirt, silver-grey vest and bow tie exceeded even her expectations. He was sexy. He was hot. And best of all, in a few minutes he would be her husband. She didn't deserve him, but she certainly was not going to let that sentiment, or anything else, get in the way.

"Hey beautiful," he said almost in a whisper as he kissed her on the cheek when she finally joined him in front of Pastor Stewart as Michael took his place next to Kate. His parents, grandmother and siblings sat in the middle of the front two pews on one side of the church while the Allens and their friends—excepting Sue—sat similarly on the other side. It was a deliberately small group. But everyone that mattered most to them was here.

"Hey yourself," she replied shifting her bouquet into her left hand and taking the hand he'd extended to her.

"You take my breath away," he told her with a gentle squeeze.

"Funny thing," she answered with a smile. "I've been having a few respiratory difficulties myself. And besides that… my face hurts."

He laughed softly until the Pastor interrupted their intimate moment together by audibly clearing his throat. With slightly flushed faces they turned to face him directly.

"Dearly Beloved," the Pastor began once he had their attention, "we are gathered this evening in this house of God to join this man and this woman in the holy state of matrimony. There are no obligations on earth sweeter or more tender than those you are about to assume. There are no vows more solemn than those you are about to make. And there is no human institution more sacred than that of the family you are about to form." He paused and looked towards Kate and Michael. "Who gives this woman in marriage?"

"Her mother and I do." Michael stepped forward and symbolically placed his daughter's right hand in Rod's.

"Thank you," Rod said quietly looking Michael in the eye.

Michael kissed his daughter on the cheek as he took her bouquet and then rejoined his wife.

Pastor Stewart looked at Rod. "Do you, Roderic Gabriel Calloway, take Mackenzie Spencer Allen for your lawfully wedded wife? Do you promise to love and cherish her? Comfort, support and honor her? Through joy and sorrow, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer until death do you part?"

Rod turned and gazed at Mackenzie. "I do," he said unequivocally.

Looking at Mac, Pastor Stewart then repeated, "And do you, Mackenzie Spencer Allen, take Roderic Gabriel Calloway for your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him? Comfort, support and honor him? Through joy and sorrow, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer until death do you part?"

"I do," she answered with a smile and equal resolve.

"Roderic and Mackenzie," the Pastor announced, "have each chosen to deliver their own vows as they exchange rings. Although frankly, I have no idea who wants to go first."

"I will," Rod said although he was somewhat surprised that she, too, had chosen to engage in her own apparent word play. "After all, age before beauty."

He turned to face her directly and took both of her hands in his.

Mac could tell immediately by looking at him that she'd guessed right about what he would do. She couldn't wait to learn what he had chosen, and then to witness his reaction to her selection.

"From _Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved Her_ by Christopher Brennan," he told her.

Without hesitation he continued in a clear voice, _"If questioning would make us wise, no eyes would ever gaze in eyes. If all our tale were told in speech, no mouths would wander each to each. _

"_For who is there that lives and knows the secret powers by which love grows? Were knowledge all, what were our need to thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?_"

He paused and indulgently dipped his head slightly before finishing with a knowing grin, "_Then seek not, sweet, the 'If' and 'Why,' I love you now until I die. For I must love because I live, and life in me is what you give."_

With one hand he reached into his pocket and pulled out a narrow gold band, which he slipped onto her left hand until it rested against her engagement ring. He bent his head and briefly brought that hand to his lips before again taking each of her hands in his. However, his eyes remained fixed with hers. He could see that she had a few tears in her eyes, which was fortunate because inevitably he was going to get emotional, too.

Mac sighed deeply. He'd chosen the perfect piece of prose. When he gave her his signature "So what are you waiting for?" look, she wanted to laugh. Eventually she replied, "An excerpt from _Love_ by Roy Croft."

Continuing to look deep into his eyes, she began with conviction, "_I love you not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you. I love you not only for what you have made of yourself, but for what you are making of me."_

All it took for him to lose it was to hear those three little words he'd been waiting for her to acknowledge—even if technically it was a cop out because they came in the form of a poem. But, at least, he was in good company. She, too, had an equal number of tears escaping down her cheeks, and peripherally he could see that more than a few members of their families also had damp cheeks.

"_I love you for putting your hand into my heaped-up heart and passing over all the foolish, weak things that you can't help dimly seeing there…._

She paused before deliberately concluding with the sweetest smile he'd ever seen, _"I love you because you have done more than any creed could have done to make me good, and more than any fate could have done to make me happy."_

By the time she finished they both wore huge smiles, although his, as expected, was the more smug of the two.

Mac released one of his hands and turned to her father, who handed her a gold band, which she maneuvered down onto the fourth finger of his left hand as he winked at her.

When once again they were facing each other holding hands, Pastor Stewart declared, "By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife." He looked at Rod. "Mr. Calloway, you may kiss your bride."

Immediately they came together. First their lips melded to seal this new and everlasting contract between them, and then their foreheads followed suit. With a few tears remaining in their eyes, each sighed deeply.

While connected in this favored position, Mac held her breath waiting for his inevitable declaration. When she finally heard his husky voice say, "I love you, Mrs. Calloway," she impulsively wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him until once again the Pastor was forced to clear his throat—this time amidst the happy tears and laughter emanating from the witnesses to their union, and their parents in particular. However, before releasing each other they engaged in one final brief kiss of promise. And as they came apart they heard the Pastor proudly announce, "Ladies and Gentleman, may I present Mr. and Mrs. Roderic Gabriel Calloway."

**TO BE CONTINUED…. (I think).**


	41. Home, Sweet Home

**41. Home, Sweet Home**

"Here we are… home, sweet home," Rod said casually as he parked the Porsche in its parking space, and turned off the ignition.

Since leaving their friends and families at the Greenwich Country Club following a late celebratory dinner, they'd spent most of the drive back to New Haven in comfortable silence, any hunger for food quenched and their emotions still close to the surface. It had been a day like no other, and now technically it was tomorrow.

Before opening the car door he looked at her and said, "Don't move. I'll be right back."

"Rod… what are you up to?" The day had been one surprise after another, and apparently there was more to come. She had no idea where they would be going tomorrow for their formal honeymoon. He refused to give her even enough information to allow her to pack properly. His one concession had been to allow for her desire to spend their first night together at home.

"Nothing," he protested innocently. "Need to take care of a few things before I carry my bride across the threshold."

He didn't wait for a reply but made a brisk exit. He hoped he had a clean set of sheets somewhere. Changing the linens hadn't been on his list of things to do. He'd planned for them to spend tonight in a suite at the Carlyle in New York City. However, he had to admit that he was pleased. No matter how luxurious it may have been, it was only a hotel. This, on the other hand, was home.

Hearing the trunk open, her first thought was that he couldn't possibly be serious about the whole threshold thing. He was a big, strong guy. But she was no petite bride. This could turn ugly real fast.

She was a bride. What a stunning reality! This morning she wasn't in a relationship and tonight she was a wife: Rod's wife. And that made all the difference. She could no longer imagine herself as anything else, or having any other future. She shuddered as she thought about how close she'd come to throwing it all away—how she'd almost let pride and fear keep her from the life (and the relationship) she'd desired for so long.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the return of her husband. She smiled up at him as he opened the door and extended a hand to her. She immediately noticed that he'd shed his suit coat.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Definitely," she answered as she accepted his assistance.

Hand in hand they walked to their home for the first time as husband and wife. When he opened the door, she said skeptically, "You weren't serious about carrying me, were you?"

He was taken back. "Of course, I was. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Rod…"

"Mackenzie… it's tradition," he insisted. Looking at his watch he added teasingly, "We've been married slightly more than three hours and you're already questioning my manhood? Well, never fear, you know how I love a good challenge." He swept her up in his arms and effortlessly carried her into the condo, kicking the door shut behind them.

Once they were well inside, he gently returned her to the floor.

"I can't believe you just…."

"Honey," he told her with a playful grin as he reached for her waist and pulled her up against him, "where do you think I've been spending my free time the past two months? Taking out my frustrations at the gym, that's where."

Mac laughed softly. "Ran a few extra miles recently myself," she replied. "Including about a marathon's worth while I was in Bridgeport over the break, while I… you know."

He sighed. "I missed you," he told her. "Was miserable without you." He tucked his head and sweetly kissed her.

"Me, too," she whispered against his lips. "Me, too."

"Are you sure you want to stay here tonight? We don't have to, I mean."

"I don't want to be someplace else. This is home."

"But it's kind of a mess," he told her. "Didn't exactly have time to clean. Wasn't expecting to be…."

"Honey, I don't care about that," she interrupted. "Besides, let's face it, you're kind of a neat freak."

"Well, I've got a set of sheets in the washer. Are you hungry?"

She smiled. "We just ate, remember?"

"Oh yeah," he said with an embarrassed shrug. "Well, we could start on those strip poker lessons I promised you. But I'd better shave first… and shower. And of course, if you're too tired, I totally understand…."

He was nervous. She couldn't believe it. Her normally calm, cool and confident husband was nervous. She couldn't blame him for being apprehensive—not after the way she'd previously reacted, or the accusation she'd made when they'd fought over Mike. She was touched. He was honestly afraid that he might traumatize her. It was yet one more example of the depth of his love for her. Her mother was right—more right than she had initially understood: This was her test. She fought back against the lingering panic that threatened her and took a deep breath.

"Roderic," she said gently, "I had a nap earlier tonight, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Well…"

"How many times have you showered today?"

"Twice," he admitted.

"And how many times have you shaved?"

"Twice." He felt his face. "But it's kind of scratchy and I don't want…. How about that game of cards? Or a movie? Or we could relax in front of the fire? Whatever you want."

With a smile, she took him by the hand and led him into what was now their bedroom.

"Mac," he protested, "the sheets aren't clean, the bathroom's not clean. Are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable at a hotel? You know, a small glass of celebratory champagne? Chocolates? Roses? We don't have any of that…."

She could no longer choke back a chuckle. He was adorable. "We don't need any of that—or anything else." She walked him over to the side of their bed and gently pushed him down onto it. "Sit here," she told him, "and don't move a muscle." She picked up her bag that he had brought in earlier and proceeded into the bathroom.

XXXXXXXXXX

A few minutes later she reemerged with her hair down and wearing his robe.

He stood to greet her. "You look beautiful," he said. "I'll just shower and shave."

She shook her head. "You've showered enough for one day. But we can do the shave…." She grabbed him again by the hand and this time directed him into the bathroom. She took off his tie, belt, and cufflinks, and then un-tucked his shirt. "Sit on the counter."

He did as he was told and she removed his shoes and socks. She'd already set his razor and shaving gel out.

"Mac, you don't have to…."

"Honey, be quiet," she said as she kissed him. "I've missed this."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with an audible intake of breath, as she began to unbutton his shirt, her lips following her fingers as together they traced a path down the center of his chest and abdomen.

She took off his shirt and eagerly gazed at his bare torso. He was rock hard and had obviously lost weight. "You have been working out," she whispered in his ear and felt him shudder in response. "Not yet," she whispered into his other ear. "Not yet."

She wet a towel with warm water and gently caressed his face.

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He'd forgotten exactly how erotic the act of shaving could be when performed by the woman he loved. He wanted her so much. He just didn't want to hurt her—not again.

Mac found that his robe, which was slightly long in the sleeves, was getting in her way. She quickly unbelted it and slipped it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

Rod opened his eyes to be greeted by the sight of his wife wearing only her Yale baseball jersey along with her pearl and diamond necklace. No piece of lingerie could ever look sexier on her. As he looked her over, head to toe, the physical effect her appearance had on him was immediate.

She saw him tense and smiled. She lathered some shaving gel in her hands and covered his face and neck. With a soft touch she stroked his face with his razor. He'd shaved twice already today. This act was more ritualistic than anything else. But it brought back memories of a special time between them—their first moments of true intimacy together, a rich foundation they would build upon tonight.

When she finished, she gently dried his face and softly applied his aftershave lotion. Then she kissed his lips, his face, and his neck. She could tell he was on the edge. She knew exactly what would send him past the point of no return. "You kept my message on the mirror," she whispered against his cheek before pulling back a little to watch his expression and to look in his eyes. She was pleased when she saw his face flush.

"See how deeply you were burrowed under my skin and in my heart?" he said hoarsely.

With a feather light touch she trailed her fingers down the center of his chest to the top of his trousers, which she deftly unfastened. Thrilled to feel him stiffen at her touch, she straightened up and wrapped her arms around his neck. Looking into his beautiful soul, she said softly, "Roderic… it's time. No more sitting on the bench, or watching the game from the stands."

"Are you sure?" he asked hoarsely.

"I want to make love with my husband."

As she hoped, that was all the encouragement he needed. In a split second, he was standing and had her pressed fully against the length of him. He bent his head, and vigorously parting her lips, he delved into the deepest recesses of her mouth and then eagerly allowed her the same privilege.

It was a kiss that left them each naked and lying intertwined together on their bed, with nothing between them, and an uncontrollable, insatiable need to touch and kiss each other everywhere. Without saying a word, very quickly they came together in one immediate climax that left them physically spent and emotionally fulfilled.

XXXXXXXXXX

Afterwards as they lay side by side, trying to regain their breath, Mac began to laugh.

Rod turned over on his right side and looked at her. "What?"

She pulled up the sheet and rolled over to face him. "All those months of foreplay—all those months I was petrified of being with you. And it was all over nothing."

"Nothing? Nothing?" he repeated, pretending to be offended. "You mean to tell me that wasn't the most mind-bending, utterly fantastic sexual experience of your life?"

"Rod," she told him, "we weren't having sex. We were making love. There's a difference, remember?"

"Oh yeah…. Definitely making love," he said with a husky tone as he leaned in and kissed her on the lips. He brushed some hair off her face, and continuing to look at her, said, "Do you know why it was that way? Why it wasn't a big deal?"

"No."

"Because the past is now irrelevant. You're stuck with me, Mackenzie Spencer Allen Calloway. Till' death do us part. And even then, I'm not going to let you go."

Knowing he was yet again right, she smiled. "About the past…."

"Yeah?" he questioned with a tender, indulgent look as he shifted positions to face her more directly. "Are you finally ready to tell me why you put us through such hell? Why you freaked out on me?"

Her parents had been right. He did know and understand her. But it was a knowledge and understanding that was thankfully tempered and blinded by his love for her. With him, she had nothing to fear. "I thought I was engaged once before… in Jerusalem."

He listened intently as she told him about David—their initial meeting, his background, how she'd been a virgin when they'd made love after three months together, about their marriage plans, her willingness to give up her dreams, and his subsequent act of cowardice; and most of all, the emptiness she'd felt afterwards and how much she loathed—could not tolerate—being made the object of anyone's pity.

Rod struggled to fight back the anger he was feeling. He wanted to kill the bastard! And strangle his wife at the same time, albeit to a much lesser degree.

When she finished, he took a deep breath. Trying, tonight of all nights, to respond in a reasoned, mature and understanding manner, he asked, "And you thought I was like David? That I would hurt you like he did?"

"The surface similarities emotionally paralyzed me at first," she quietly conceded.

"But I would never…." He felt the anger rise again, so he shut up.

She saw him tense. He was fighting hard against giving her the reaction, which as a matter of right, she so richly deserved. She reached out and brushed back the thick hair from his forehead. Tenderly she told him, "Rod, you are nothing like him. I know that—have known it for a long time. On your worst day you are a far better man—a better person—than he could ever hope to be."

"Then why?" he pleaded. "I don't understand."

"Because what he did nearly destroyed me," she said with a sigh. "However, what I felt with him is a single drop in a bucket compared to what I feel with you. I was terrified that if something were to happen between us—if you were to choose something else, I wouldn't survive."

"But…"

"I know," she acknowledged, cutting him off. "Self-fulfilling prophecy?"

He nodded.

"I told you this morning I was glad that you appeared to be happy and with someone else last Thursday night. The reason is that I hadn't come to grips with my past even then. I didn't understand how much it was affecting my present and dictating our futures. I needed to… before we could have the relationship we both want and deserve," she said fingering her pearl and diamond necklace, and quoting from language he'd written in his note to her mother. With an unsteady voice, and while wiping away a tear from her eye, she told him, "I'm profoundly grateful that it wasn't too late for us—too late for you. You are my life: my present and my future."

He, too, had to brush away a tear or two, as all his lingering anger and frustration faded away to its proper place: behind them. "There is one thing we have to resolve," he said finally.

"What?" she asked in almost a panic upon hearing the soberness in his voice.

"You're lying on my side of the bed… and I want it back."

She threw back her head and laughed at his never ending ability to surprise, amuse, and exasperate her all at the same time. "Are you serious?"

He nodded. "Completely."

"But before when you were sick, you slept on that side."

He grinned. "That was only so I could look at you. My cast forced me over here."

She shook her head. "You are crazy."

"Crazy about you," he threw back with a smile. "But I want my side of the bed back."

She considered his request for a moment. "Okay," she told him, "on two conditions."

"What conditions?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

"Well, first that I get to keep the last name 'Allen' for work."

"Only at work?" he asked. "Not at home and not with our children?"

"Only at work," she assured him.

He shrugged. Recognizing how important it was for her after David to maintain a sense of independence, he told her, "I guess I can live with it. And the second condition?"

"That you tell me where we're going tomorrow."

"No can do," he replied. "It's a secret."

"Please," she begged. "I'm dying to know. You know how I hate surprises."

"I'll give you a few hints."

"Okay," she conceded.

"It's warm, tropical and very secluded, Señora," he disclosed. "It might even include additional time out on the water—but only if you promise to curl up next to me."

"You mean like this?" she asked as she scooted up next to him.

"Exactly like that," he replied wrapping his arms around her from behind and pulling her up flesh against him. "What do you think?"

"Sounds perfect," she said with a sigh as once again she found a haven in his arms. "So long as you promise we won't be joined by any eels."

He laughed. "The eels can stay home."

She turned to face him. "Honey?"

"Yeah?"

"As wonderful as our first time together was, I think there's room for improvement."

"You do, huh?"

"Well, I'd hate to think we reached the pinnacle on our first try."

"Are you issuing a challenge, Mrs. Calloway? Daring me to get in the game again?" he teased as he bent his head and began playfully to nip at her neck and throat. "You know I play to win."

"Yes, I do," she answered, stroking his flanks in return. "I'd say that's something we have in common, Mr. Calloway. So enough talk, I want action."

"Action?" he repeated with a grin. "Why that happens to be my specialty. Only this time," he told her, "it's going to be exquisitely slow."

XXXXXXXXXX

Much later they lay wrapped up in each other's arms and in their individual thoughts, except that he was now on his side of the bed. Their legs were entangled and he cradled her head on his chest, gently rubbing her back. So much had happened over the course of the day. When he had awakened this morning the wound in his heart from her absence was still gaping. Now miraculously, when he woke tomorrow, she would be in his arms to stay—as his wife. His beautiful, proud, brilliant, stubborn, and incredible wife.

She thought on the last time they'd lain in his bed like this… after they'd talked about love, and he'd told her it had to be given freely or it wasn't love. Their relationship had changed drastically since that day—for the worse and now for the better. But almost all of the changes were in, or because of, her. Like the North Star, he had always been constant: in his love for her, and in his commitment to her and to their relationship.

After some time, she looked up at him as she continued to play with the fine hairs on his taut, sculpted chest. "You're unusually quiet," she told him. "You're not having second thoughts are you?"

He looked down at her lazily. "About our marriage?"

"Yeah. We were a little hasty."

"Never," he said definitively as he intertwined the fingers of his right hand with hers. "I was wondering... if Coop hadn't intervened, would you ever have swallowed your pride and come back to me?"

"Thank God we'll never know!" Seizing the initiative, she rolled on top of him and began to express her feelings in the manner she best communicated intimacy.

When her lips descended on his, he sighed and fell deeper in love with his wife. How he loved saying those words! He closed his arms around her and held her tight while enjoying the fire her touch always kindled deep in his body and soul.

Some time later she pulled back and acknowledged with a gleam in _her_ eyes, "We do owe Cooper a lot, don't we?"

"Yes, we do," he solemnly agreed.

Without warning, he reversed their positions and with their faces inches apart, and a hint of mischief in _his_ eyes, he looked down at her and suggested, "Perhaps we should name our first son Horace Cooper in his honor."

"I love you, Roderic," she told him, her voice full of emotion.

"It's about time, Mackenzie," he replied with a cocky grin. "It's about time."

She smiled at him knowingly and together they made love again.

However, they would remember the day's events as the true beginning of their life-long affair. A partnership, which through joy and sorrow, failure and success, war and peace, would be built on abiding love and a willingness—when absolutely necessary—to throw an elbow at anyone, or anything, that might stand in the way of their being together... even occasionally each other.

**THE END**

**Author's Note:** This story has been quite the journey for me. I may be overly optimistic, but I'd like to believe that somewhere during these forty-one chapters, I became a writer. There are many people to thank for aiding my education. You know who you are. Know this, too. I sincerely appreciate all the advice, support, and suggestions each of you has given me. More important, I am grateful for your individual and collective friendship. And to everyone who has ever taken the time, and made the effort, to submit a review, thank you. Before sitting down to write this story, I came up with a timeline for the Calloway family from the day Rod and Mackenzie met up to the day she becomes President. "_Beginnings_" details the first part of that journey. The rest of the story will hopefully be told in a modified and updated, "_Turning Point_."

Mac


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